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acaaai-t · 11 months

Text

drinks on me

gn! reader x kamisato ayato

✧ cw: mild angst, hurt/a little comfort, mentions of alcohol, implied cheating, miscommunication

One shot.

“Forever…” his voice— so low that only you were able to hear him. His gaze lingered on you as he slowly slipped the wedding ring onto your finger.

“Forever,” you echoed, a small smile appearing.

Two shots.

You didn’t know what compelled you to wake up so late that night, but you found yourself unable to fall back asleep. You glanced over at the sleeping form of your beloved, the slow rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes.

You reached up and gently brushed a strand of his hair away, admiring your lover’s features. Your hand unconsciously cupped his cheeks, stroking it with your thumb.

The sharp and sudden chirp of a cricket outside startled you, and immediately you pulled back your hands. He stirred and you froze. A pair of startling blue eyes met your own. He blinked groggily, looking confused.

“Love?” he croaked out.

“Oh sorry, did I wake you?”

He shook his head. “No. Why are you still awake at this hour?”

“I… I just woke up and now I can’t sleep.”

He hummed lightly and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in. You happily snuggled into his embrace, warmth quite literally radiating off of him. “Come here,” he mumbled, his words just barely coherent.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself when you felt him press a light kiss on top of your head. The arm wrapped around you slightly slackened as he dozed off once again.

You closed your eyes and took a slow deep breath, waiting for the whispers of sleep to whisk you away somewhere far.

Three, four, five shots.

“Not enough…” you mumbled to yourself, pouring another shot of alcohol into your cup. The bartender gave you a worried glance, yet no words were exchanged.

It was the second time this week.

The first time it happened, he’d left all too hurriedly in the morning without a single word exchanged with you. And when the sun dipped below the horizon, he still wasn’t home. That night you waited anxiously by the living room, waiting for him to come home.

But when the clock struck 1 in the morning, when sleep threatened to overtake you, when Thoma— unbeknownst to you, who was still awake, urged you to go to bed, was when you finally gave up waiting. Feeling defeated, you climbed onto your shared bed and pulled the blanket over you, eyes drifting closed already.

The next morning, he would act as if nothing had happened. You questioned him, yet each time he would change the subject— as if it was his second nature. In the end, you gave up.

“When the time comes,” he told you, his lips brushing against your cheek.

You held onto that hope.

The sixth shot was when you’d finally felt the alcohol taking effect. The feeling of dizziness kicking in as your vision begins to blur. You never had a high tolerance for alcohol, yet tonight, you chose to drink your sorrow away.

To drink until you forget everything.

A lipstick smudge.

You’d noticed it while helping the maids organize the laundry. You tried not to think too much about it, chalking up to the fact that one of those stupid nobles had tried to seduce him again. Your husband was smart. Smart and loyal. You knew it in your heart that he’ll never cheat.

Yet all the coming home late… the lingering scent of sake… it was all enough to plant the seeds of doubt deep in your mind.

He… couldn’t be cheating on you right? Were you not enough?

Seven.

By now your world had faded into a blur of vibrant colors. Voices confused and disoriented.

He came home late again.

You wrapped the blanket around yourself tighter, eyes watching as your lover hung his coat and set his keys down. Your figure, hidden by the darkness, went unnoticed by him— his shadow gliding pass you without sparing a single glance. You caught onto a familiar scent wavering in the air.

saku night co.

A relatively popular perfume brand trending in Inazuma. Despite the smell of sake mixing in with it, you could recognize that scent from anywhere. It was your husband's least favorite. Yet having that very same perfume he claimed to hate lingering on him… your grip tightened on the blanket.

“Did I do anything wrong?” your voice was small, whispering aloud so that only you can hear. “Was I the problem?”

A tear slipped.

“Did he ever love me?”

Too far drowned in your sorrows, you didn’t notice a familiar face taking a seat next to you.

“Hey…”

You couldn’t hear him, memories— ones that you’ve been drinking to forget, resurfacing in shattered fragments.

“Are you cheating on me?”

You’d finally gained the courage to confront Ayato about this behavior. Yet your voice still trembled.

For a moment he was silent, and you feared the worst. He looked up from his documents and stared at you, eyes that use to look at you with adoration, now cold.

“I’m not cheating on you,” he began. “I don’t know where you got that idea from, but I’m busy right now. Let’s save this conversation for another time.”

His voice was faraway. You hadn’t even fully register what he had said before your body moved on its own. By the time you snapped out of your trance, you were lying on your shared bed, tears still streaking your face.

A bed meant for two people.

Two people, yet it was always just you. When did this start happening? When did the two of you began drifting apart like this?

A slight nudge to your shoulders drew you back. Neon lights danced across your tear-streaked face. It felt as if even the world was taunting you.

“Look I’m sorry…” he said. “I was just stressed.”

You refuse to look at him.

Biting down on your lips anxiously, you watched as Ayato scribbles away on the stack of documents on his desk. You wanted to ask him again, but scared that you'll be shut down again, you didn't speak up. You could only watch in silence, heart heavy.

What happened to forever?

What happened to the sweet promises he made during your wedding ceremony? When the two of you had snuck away, when he had held you close to him...

"Please... just look at me," his voice, edging on desperation.

You remained silent.

"Look!" your voice was bright, breaking through the silence. "This bird looks like you, don't you think so? Ayato?"

On the palm of your hand sat a small blue bird, its feather ruffled. Ayato silently crept up behind you and snaked an arm around your waist, placing a small kiss on your cheek. The bird, spooked by his sudden behavior, chirped loudly— as if voicing its complaints, and flew away.

You gasped. "Ayato! You scared him away!"

"Did I?" he mumbled. "Maybe he was just too mesmerized by my beauty." There was a light tease to his voice.

You rolled your eyes, yet you couldn't repress the smile slowly appearing. "Sure sure, Mr. Handsome."

You pushed yourself up from your stool, hands gripping onto the edge of the table to steady yourself. From the corner of your eyes, you saw him reach out.

"Go away," you muttered. "Cheater."

The box of lunch you grasped in your hands fell, it’s contents spilling.

“Nobody cheats even if they’re stressed,” you said, pointing a finger at him. “Nobody…”

Ayato was silent.

“You left me alone for days, weeks even,” you continued, the alcohol clouding your mind. “I thought you were just busy doing commissioner things, so I didn’t pry.”

“Ayato, what’s the meaning of this?” you asked, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

He was frantic, stuttering over his words. The women next to him scoffed and quickly gathered her things. You felt your heart drop when she hooked her arm over Ayato’s arm.

Ayato shook her off and reached out for you. But you were long gone by then, leaving nothing but the mess of a lunch on the floor.

“I don’t want to see you,” you whispered.

For once, the commissioner was at a loss for words. The cunning and clever Ayato, couldn’t formulate any words.

He knew what he did was wrong. Archons, what had gotten into his mind? What is wrong with him?

“Look, the stars are so bright tonight,” you pointed up at the glittering river of stars. “They’re so pretty…”

You were sitting along the edge of a cliff, right next to your lover. He gently smiled and ran his fingers through your hair. “They are very pretty tonight.”

Nights where the two of you could hang out like this was rare, seeing as how he was almost always drowning in paperwork.

You rested your head against his shoulder, the light breeze tugging at your hair.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

His apologies meant nothing to you. You could only give him a pitiful look before gathering your things and leaving.

Ayato watched as your figure merged with the clusters of people under the rainbow lights. He didn’t try to stop you, he knew it was futile.

“Are you happy?”

The cold air was stinging against your cheeks, but you paid no heed to it. Tears threatened to fall again, but you hastily wiped them away.

“…”

There was no need to cry anymore.

The sky above rumbled, dark heavy clouds shadowing the moonlight. You came to a stop.

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

The conversation you had with Yoimiya replayed in your mind.

“He makes me happy, that I know for sure. He gives me a sense of comfort— a sense of companionship I never really got to experience. Whenever I’m with him, I feel free, like the burdens that weight me down is gone.”

“And you still love him even after he… cheated?”

You laughed, a bitter taste in your mouth. “Yeah, I do.”

You hated him. You really do.

You hate how even though he neglected you for days, you still yearn for his touch. You hate how despite the fact that he cheated, you still long for his presence. You hate how this man captured your heart and locked it in a cage— and even when the lock had long rusted off, you still couldn’t bring yourself to fly free.

The rain had completely soaked through your jacket, yet you payed no mind to it. Thunder cracked and the lightning crashed, and for a moment, it elicited the world in a blinding flash of white.

Even the sky weeps for your broken heart.

The rain pattering down on you came to a halt, a image of a umbrella overshadowing you. You looked up, making eye to eye contact with your lover.

Can you even call him your lover anymore?

You immediately shifted your gaze and instead opted to stare at a sweet flower, who looked like it was going to snap in half.

“I’m… I’m really sorry,” he mumbled. “If you would just let me explain.”

“What’s there to explain?” you quietly asked.

Ayato took a seat next to you, not caring whether or not it’ll dirty his clothes. “Please, will you hear me out?”

“What’s there to explain?” you repeated.

He winced. “Love please.”

“…You have two minutes.”

He was speechless, hastily wiping at his lips. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Oh come on, you knew exactly why I did—”

“Stop,” he said. “If my relationship with my wife fails because of you, I’ll destroy your clan and wipe them off the face of Teyvat.”

Her face paled. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” his voice was low, taking on a threatening tone. The air seemed to have gotten colder.

“Why are you saying this when you kissed me?!”

“You. You kissed me,” Ayato hissed. He pointed a finger at her. “You, a lowly noble, attempting to seduce a married man— oh but not just any married man, but the head of the Kamisato. I’m sure all the reporters and journalists would have a field day with that information.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

Almost in an instant, she was gone. Her stuff was a-strewn, left to collect dust in the private room of Komore Teahouse. Ayato sat down on the floor, face buried in his hands.

“I’m serious… I’ve just been so busy with work—” his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what to make of that information. Your mind was still processing everything that had happened, and the effects of alcohol that still lingered.

“I… I need to think…” you mumbled, slowly getting up. The world swayed with your movement.

Ayato quickly got up, and carefully guided you away from the cliff side. “Let’s get you home first,” he whispered. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

“Mmhm…” you didn’t try to protest against his touch, mind already shutting down. Perhaps you shouldn’t have drank that much.

He brought out the umbrella and held it over you. His arm hovered protectively over your waist. You stumbled and would’ve probably fell had Ayato not caught you in time.

“Careful there, do you me to carry you?”

“No.”

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, dark clouds finally parting way for the moon and the stars to peek through. From eastward, the glow of the sun had already begun to merge with the dark blue, coloring the entirety of the skies in a deep shade of orange and red.

Thoma was waiting frantically by the entrance of the estate, pacing around with his broom in hand. His eyes lit up at the sight of the two of you. “Oh my lord! There you are,” he breathed out. “Ah is that…?”

Ayato nodded. “Thoma, have you prepared their chamber?”

“Yes, yes it is. Should I bring her over?”

“No, I’ll do it myself. Thank you, Thoma.”

You were half-conscious, Ayato dragging you as gently as he can, across the estate. The sight was ridiculous, as you would say if you were sober. Ayato trying his very best to pick you up bridal style, yet each time you pushed him away and nearly collapsed on the floor. He felt that picking you up and bringing you to your room was the best option, but you seem to heavily disagree.

Ayaka watched from the corner, stifling a laugh.

“Brother, do you need my help?” her voice was quiet, a fluttering feeling to it.

“No— ah wait love, not that way,” Ayato steered you away from the closet. “I’ll do it myself. It’s the least I can do.”

Ayaka dipped her head. “I’ll leave you to it. They’re really angry at you, by the way.”

“I’m aware,” he whispered.

After what felt like forever, he has you finally tucked in your bed, layers upon layers of quilts covering you. By then, you had completely fell asleep.

He pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” he muttered softly.

I promise.

✩ ·┆ masterlist

a/n: have this short drabble while i continue to work on [resurface, my love] 👯‍♀️ I might do a part two where Ayato makes it up to you 🙏

#[💫] acaaai-t #genshin x reader #genshin impact #kamisato ayato #genshin ayato #ayato x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin angst #genshin #genshin fanfic #ayato genshin impact #genshin impact ayato

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acaaai-t · 2 days

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thinking about…

stranger! xiao whom you encountered through a unexpected bank robbery one sunny afternoon. It definitely was love at first sight for you, especially after he had tackled you— a mere stranger to him at the moment— down to shield you from the stray bullets being fired. It was chaos amidst the environment, but all you could think about was how close he was to you… archons he’s pretty.

stranger! xiao whom you practically had to chase after after the entire ordeal just to get his contact information. He had first denied your approach, but you just seemed far too determined to give up so easily. “Sir please,” you begged. “You quite literally saved my life back there, the least I can do is repay you with something.” … “Fine.”

— ༉‧₊˚ 🐈‍⬛ ༉‧₊˚. . 。！

companion! xiao who has a grumpy face on at all times no matter the situation. You had invited him out for lunch as a way to thank him for his heroic act couple days ago, and this would be your chance to properly introduce yourself to him. The weather was near perfect today with the temperature hanging around in the low 70’s (20°C) and the skies cleared of clouds. His intimidating expression was also enough to make you nervous, but you pushed through. “Hi! My name is [name], what’s yours?” … “… Xiao.”

companion! xiao who you took out on a little amusement park hangout on a bright sunny Saturday afternoon. You hadn’t been to one in forever, and considering the fact that both of you had nothing better to do today, you dragged Xiao out with you.

companion! xiao who went near deaf after agreeing to go on a rollercoaster with you— which was a poor choice. The ride was exhilarating, but if you hadn’t been screaming bloody murder throughout the entire ride, it might’ve been a better experience. “I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, hands clasped together in a praying motion. Xiao didn’t say anything. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. As an add-on to your apology, you treated him to a plate of almond tofu. Yeah no, he forgives you.

companion! xiao who gets an unwanted feeling of annoyance when he sees you occupied with someone else other than him. A stranger had stopped you to ask for direction to the nearest bathroom, and being the kind hearted soul you are, pointed to the map and gave the path to his destination. Too close, he thought. What? Why was he feeling like this? Is this what people called jealousy?

— ༉‧₊˚ 🐈‍⬛ ༉‧₊˚. . 。！！

Xiao is in denial. He’s only known you for a month or two now, and feelings are beginning to worm its way into his heart. Unwarranted feelings that he wants no part of— yet it’s constantly in the back of his mind. You’re always on his mind. He can’t get you out, no matter what.

Your smile, your laugh, your mesmerizing beauty…

Archons, what is he meant to do now?

— ༉‧₊˚ 🐈‍⬛ ༉‧₊˚. . 。！！！

lover! xiao who wrestled with his feelings for weeks on end before finally caving in to it. You were blabbering on about some drama unfolding at your workplace at a cafe he’d invited you out to when all of a sudden he stopped you. He couldn’t even pay attention to your words, for all he could do was stare at your lips moving. “Is there something wrong with my face?” you asked, fingers dragging across your cheeks. Xiao was quick to answer, giving a hasty ‘no’.

lover! xiao who kept stuttering his words when confessing his feelings to you. The sun had begun to set, and you had brought him to a secluded area of the woods, where there was a near perfect view of the sunset. Your heart was pounding so heavily against your chest— it felt like it could burst out at any moment. Although Xiao looked more of a hot mess than you did; his face crimson red.

“I.. I like— archons. Oh fuck it [name] I like you. Not as in just friends if you understand, you know what I mean right? No, it’s totally okay if you don’t like me back like—”

lover! xiao who you had to shut up with a kiss to his lips, arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer to you. He seemed to had to take a moment to register what had just happened, and when it did finally process, he kissed back— hard. Is he dreaming?

just lover! xiao being the epitome of you fell first but he fell harder.

— ༉‧₊˚ 🐈‍⬛ ༉‧₊˚. . 。！！！！

✩ ·┆ masterlist

notes—

— more xiao content coming soon

#[💫] acaaai-t #astronetwrk #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #xiao genshin impact

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acaaai-t · 11 months

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resurface, my love

[fem! reader x villain! scaramouche]

✧ synopsis: you, the hero, disappears overnight, and the only person who looks is the villain. Not your friends, not your family, not the news reporter or any of the people who claimed to love you. Just him, Scaramouche, the very same person who claimed to hate you.

✧ cw: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, use of profanities, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of violence, human experiments, visions are a thing— [each chapters will have its own warnings]

✧ a/n: TAGLIST IS CLOSED> [50/50] — first post; sporadic updates. this prompt is taken from @writing-prompt-s

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . · 　　. . · 　. ˚ ✧

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ ✩’ season 1— come back ✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。

✩ — episode 0. eyes on you

★ — episode 1. whispers of the wind

✩ — episode 2. panic

★ — episode 3. clued

✩ — episode 4. that fucking bitch

★ — episode 5. russian roulette

✩ — episode 6. incoming

★ — episode 7. embrace

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . · 　　. . · 　. ˚ ✧

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ ☾’ season 2— resurface ☾⋆｡ ° ✩

✩ — episode 8. a cup of tea

★ — episode 9. yes mother

✩ — episode 10. new face

★ — episode 11. no buts

✩ — episode 12. gone

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . · 　　. . · 　. ˚ ✧

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ ✩’ season 3— spring has arrived ✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。

★ — episode 13. misunderstandings

✩ — episode 14. a turn of a card

★ — episode 15. finally

✩ — episode 16. will you?

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . · 　　. . · 　. ˚ ✧

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ ☾’ more to be added…

#[💫] acaaai-t #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin series #genshin fanfic #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #resurface my love

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acaaai-t · 4 days

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3 months and counting

[modern au! scaramouche x gn! reader]

cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, major character death, hints at suicide, probably unhealthy coping methods idk

The taste of bitter coffee and overly sweetened scent of dandelion tea lingered, lingered for a little longer than he liked.

Wilted flowers lay by a small vase of fresh ones. The pile of dead flowers seemed to grow bigger with each passing day.

The house was dim, with the only source of light being a weakly lit candle surrounded by empty dishes and untouched cutlery on the dining table. For a place that had felt so big not too long ago, it suddenly seemed to be so small.

Scaramouche hummed quietly to himself as he gently dusted at the debris that clung onto the picture frames. His touch was delicate as his fingers brush against the cold glass. The tune he has been singing echoed off the walls, traveling down the silent hallway.

How long has it been? He wonders.

Three days? A week? Two weeks? Scaramouche had long lost count.

Once he was sure that the picture frame was clean, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. In this empty house, the only thing that stood out most was the wall of what Scaramouche called ‘memories’. Golden frames surrounded photos of all kind, taken by you and hung by him.

He misses you.

On most days, Scaramouche would stay huddle in what once was a shared bedroom, buried deep beneath the blankets, scrolling through past messages. Dark circles heavily marked his under eyes, a stark contrast to his porcelain pale skin.

For the first month, he was a utter mess. Unable to process the tragic news of your sudden death.

It had just felt like yesterday, when the two of you were just out on a date, laughing and giggling.

The world was mocking him, taunting and laughing, watching the hallow shell of the man he once was as he stood there alone in the cemetery. Flowers previously placed by your grave was removed and tossed away, replaced by a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers.

The night you were buried under the willow tree, was the only night he had ever worked up the courage to sit by your grave, and wallow in the despair.

“I miss you,” the three words etched into his mind, quietly spoken into the empty void.

What about the plans you’ve made with him? The promises of a happy ending, a beautiful future.

Gone… all gone, far too soon.

“Will we get a cat too?” your voice was eager, full of hope.

Scaramouche smiled and pressed a small kiss to your temple. “Whatever you want.”

You giggled. “Let’s get a black cat then. I can see the resemblance between you and them.”

“Hey,” he whined.

You beamed up at him. “I love you.”

How he wished time could’ve stopped right there and then, allowing that precious moment to last for an eternity.

“I love you too.”

God, it was so fucking unfair. Why did you have to be the one to die?

It could’ve been anyone else, but you just had to be there at the wrong time.

He slumped down on the empty couch, cushions and throw blankets sitting in the same spot as before. Scaramouche didn’t dare touch anything. He was scared— terrified that if he even so as much move anything a centimeter away, he’ll lose the remaining parts of you that he had so desperately been trying to cling onto.

Scaramouche had already lost you once, he couldn’t lose you for a second time.

The soft golden glow of the ceiling lights flickered in and out for a brief moment, a sign that the electrical bill was long overdue. It was fortunate enough that the landlord took pity upon him and gave Scaramouche an extension to pay his bills.

3 months.

It’s been three whole months since the accident. Three months since he’s shut himself off from the outside world. Three months he spend crying and grieving, fantasizing scenarios of you and him. He knows it’ll never come true, but he can only hope.

Head barely above water, the bits of hope he has is all that’s supporting his weight, preventing him from drowning. Yet as the clock moves, he finds himself sinking lower and lower.

Two hollow knocks to his door startled him out of his trancelike state. “Who,” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

When the answer was delivered with another two knocks, he spoke louder. “What.”

“Scaramouche,” the muffled voice of Childe floated through the thick wood. “Open the door.”

He scowled, body already moving before his mind had even processed Childe’s words. The door cracked open with a soft creak, a silver of the sunlight spilling into the dark house. Scaramouche squeezed his eyes closed, momentarily blinded by the light. It’s been so long since he’s seen the sun.

Childe’s shadow stepped in and blocked out the light. He gave Scaramouche a tired smile. “Archons you look like shit.”

Scaramouche said nothing and kept his silent gaze on him.

The ginger sighed. “I was hoping you’d come visit… them, with us.”

There were no names mentioned, yet Scaramouche almost instantly knew who Childe was referring to. He felt his body tense up.

“Look, I’m not trying to force you or anything, but we all miss them, and you too, ‘mouche… you haven’t talked with any of us in three month now.”

Guilt gnawed at his heart, eating away yet another piece.

He hadn’t meant to neglect his friends. None of the things he was doing was intentional.

“… I’m sorry,” he whispered, lowering his gaze, unable to keep eye contact with Childe. He fear that if he continued, tears would begin to formulate, and there’d be nothing to stop them from flowing.

“Mind if I come in?” Childe’s voice softened.

Scaramouche felt tears prickling at his eyes. Childe placed one hand on his shoulder, gently giving a pat— and that was what finally broke him. The water droplets fell uncontrollably, rolling down his cheeks. A pitiful sight to behold.

Childe pulled him into a hug and remained quiet. There wasn’t much he could say to comfort Scaramouche’s pain. Everyone was still grieving, him included.

His quiet sniffles slowly died down. Just this one time, he thought to himself, wiping away at a tear. It’s the least he can do.

“Let me get my things,” Scaramouche’s voice was hoarse. A pain-like expression was scrawled across his features as he pulled away from Childe and step back into the shadows of his home.

There wasn’t much he needed to do to get ready. He’d given up on life the moment he was given the news that you didn’t make it. Why he had been fighting for so long, he didn’t understand.

He threw on a simple black cardigan, it was a handmade gift from you to him. In your words, it took you a week and a half to make it— “i hope you’ll like it,” you said sheepishly.

Of course he’ll love it. Cherish it even till death.

He took in a deep breath and went to look for Childe. The medications stored in his pockets jangled against the hard plastic with each step he took.

The last strands of hope snapped, and he sunk. Bubbles floating to the surface as his darkened silhouette slowly disappeared under the void of water.

Tonight, he decided. Tonight, he’ll be able to see you again.

The lights sputtered out as Scaramouche flipped the switch. With the last bits of power it has, the lights illuminated the series of letter sprawled across the glass coffee table— each one address to someone dear to him.

Then it all went dark.

✩ ·┆ masterlist

notes—

— this was fun to write

#[💫] acaaai-t #astronetwrk #genshin impact #genshin #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin scaramouche x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche

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acaaai-t · 11 months

Text

ethereal glow

[gn! reader x modern au! scaramouche]

✧ cw: fluff, mentions of alcohol, kissing, tiny bit suggestive, not proofread

“I like you.”

Such a simple statement, yet he somehow couldn’t bring himself to say it. He felt his heart erratically race at the mere though of confessing— confessing his feelings for you. His harbored feelings, ones that he thought he had planted and buried deep, was now sprouting.

You were slumped up between his legs, head nestled upon his collarbone as you silently dozed off, chest rising every once in a while. He swallowed a lump in his throat and stole a quick glance at your sleeping form. The feeling of you on him, the fact that you’re between his lap— it was driving him insane.

He felt you stir in your sleep and instinctively, he found his arms wrapped around you, holding you closer to him. You brought your hands up and rubbed your eyes, the nagging feeling of sleep still clinging on.

“Scara?” you mumbled, voice slightly cracking.

He was quick to reply, his voice soft. “Yes?”

“Where arewe?” your words were slurred together, perhaps it was because you haven’t slept the effect of alcohol off yet.

“On the hills of Starfell Park.”

You pushed yourself up, a black jacket slipping down from your shoulders. “How… how long was I out for?”

“A hour, maybe a little more.”

You groaned. “I’m never drinking again.”

He grinned. “You should actually. Seeing you drunk was funny.”

You swatted at him, cheeks dusting pink. “Don’t remind me. Last time I drank I woke up in the sewer system.”

Scaramouche laughed, something that you rarely hear.

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t do anything embarrassing this time, did I?”

His laughter slowly died down. “Well, you it depends if you consider it embarrassing or not.”

Scaramouche was dragging you out from the party, your slumped figure babbling nonsense. He was glad that he hadn’t drank a single bit, seeing now that you can’t even recognize who he is.

You giggled, lightly tugging on his hair. “You’re so pretty, you know?”

His heart raced at your words.

“Aw look at youuu, you’re blushing,” you said, a lopsided smile adorning your features.

Scaramouche looped into Starfell Park and took a seat in the clearings with you still clinging onto him. Drunken you really is a whole different person, he muses. No shame in what you do or say.

“Hey…” you mumbled, leaning your head against his chest.

“Hm?”

“Do you know this guy? He’s my best friend. Very short, dark purple hair…” you said. “And he’s really pretty too.”

Scaramouche froze. Your insult to his height completely flew over his head. “You… think he’s pretty?”

“Now that I think about it, you look kind of similar to him,” you shifted your body to face Scaramouche, noses nearly touching. “Are you him?”

“No?”

”Liar,” you whispered.

“Lia—“ he hadn’t even gotten the chance to finish his sentence before your lips captured his, effectively silencing him.

It caught him by surprise. You kissing him out of the blue was not something he had planned for the night.

Your lips tasted of strawberries— and there was also the slight bitter taste from the alcohol, he noted. One arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer— the other tussling through your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

Euphoria. Pure bliss. Nothing could explain how he was feeling right now. Holy fuck.

Scaramouche was out of breath by the time the two of you finally pull apart. Though he wasn’t given much time to catch his breath before you slammed your lips onto his once again, pushing him down on the grass— your body pressed tightly against his.

He flinched just the slightest bit when you bit down on his lips. Your hands resting upon his chest, the wind tickling your exposed skin.

This was no longer a simple kiss. The two of you were full on making-out.

Part of Scaramouche felt bad for taking advantage of you in your drunken state, but then again, he just couldn’t help it. He had liked you for so long— dropped so many hints, yet you just never seem to pick up on any of his affection towards you.

Maybe finally he’ll be able to tell you how he felt.

“Scara?” you looked up at him, worried. “Why are you so red? You aren’t sick are you?”

“Do you want to know what you did?”

“What?”

“Do you,” he repeated each word slowly, eyes staring into yours. “Want to know… what you did?”

You chuckled nervously, unsure what to answer. “Um, yes?”

Just as you had done before, he leaned down closer to your face, noses brushing against each other. “Are you sure?” he whispered.

Now you’re really nervous. Just what had you done while you were drunk? Surely you didn’t accidentally hit a pedestrian with your car again…

“Yes..” your answer was hesitant, eyes adverted away from his piercing gaze.

“Then allow me,” he breathed out, dipping his head.

You didn’t really know what to expect, but Scaramouche kissing you out of nowhere was something you had not been able to predict. He felt warm against you, worryingly warm.

You didn’t push away, instead closing your eyes and leaning in. When Scaramouche broke the kiss, you suddenly felt yourself wanting more, yet you didn’t dare make a move. Your heart drummed against your chest, beating in an arbitrary rhythm.

The sun had begun to rise, touching the clouds in a tinted orange and red. Scaramouche sat in front of you, gaze adverted. You stared at him, unable to formulate any words.

It felt painfully awkward sitting in silence. You reflected.

He kissed me… OH MY GOD HE KISSED ME.

The realization hits harder than you expected. You felt your face heat up.

“Um,” you broke the stillness, a smile tugging at your lips. “That wasn’t what I had thought would happen.”

Scaramouche visibly relaxed at your lighthearted demeanor. “I’m sorry about that…” he muttered.

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

“…”

“Scara, look at me,” you whispered.

He did so, very slowly. His eyes were focused on everything else but you.

“Scara…” you cupped his cheeks. “In the eye.”

Seeing that he had opted to squeeze his eyes shut instead, you could only sigh. Bringing his face closer to you, you pressed a light kiss to the corner of his lips. “You don’t need to apologize when you’ve done nothing wrong,” you muttered quietly.

You didn’t know why you had kissed him again, but it felt like the right thing to do.

The radiance of the ascending sun basked Scaramouche in an ethereal glow. Your heart thumped just a little faster. He opened his eyes, strikingly purple— a close resemblance to heliotropes, boring into yours. A furious blush painted his cheeks in a light shade of red.

“You—” he spluttered over his words. “Me… no, why?—”

“Why?” you echoed his question. “Maybe because I’ve been pinning for you for so long but you just never seem to notice? This is the perfect chance, the only chance I’ll get, Scara. Of course I’ll take this opportunity.”

A half confession.

“Wait so you—”

“I do, you idiot.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“…”

“Hey,” you scooted closer to Scaramouche, brushing away the blanket of tranquility again. “Did I really do that while I was drunk? Or was it just an excuse to kiss me?”

Scaramouche pinched the bridge of his nose, far too embarrassed even at the mere thought of the events that transcended in one night. You giggled, seeing the tip of his ears flushed red.

“I see,” you tried your best to stifle a laugh, but ultimately failed.

“… I hate you,” he grumbled.

“I love you too.”

✩ ·┆ masterlist

notes— [✩]

— two fics within a week??? 😨😨😨 anyways this’ll hopefully put a bandage over the previous angst I posted 🙏🙏 enjoy (I swear I’ll get chapter two of resurface, my love done soon after I finish all of my regents)

#[💫] acaaai-t #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin x you #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scara x reader #genshin impact fluff

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acaaai-t · 11 months

Text

resurface, my love

00. eyes on you

[fem! reader x villain! scaramouche]

cw: mentions of bombs, terrorists attacks, dead bodies, a tiny sprinkle of both fluff and angst, kissing scene, mild cursing

Where did it all start?

When did all this happen?

Why you?

…

Scaramouche is pretty.

Yet his prettiness doesn’t match up with his aggravating personality. It was no wonder why he was always seen alone by himself.

In a way, you pitied him. Maybe that’s what drove your 8 year old self to approach the lone boy.

Grasping your boxed lunch in your tiny hands, you hopped onto the available seat next to the purple hair boy and set your bento down. He gave you a weird look, but said nothing.

You clasped your hands together and muttered a quick thank you before opening your lunch, revealing a row of egg and ham sandwiches neatly tucked against each other.

You picked up a sandwich and offered it to him. “Want one?”

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I don’t like ham,” he said.

“Where’s your lunch? Won’t you be hungry?”

“I don’t bring lunch, and no, I won’t get hungry,” he grumbled, annoyed by your questions.

You rolled your eyes and stuffed a bite of the sandwich into your mouth. “Whatever,” you muttered.

The next day, you brought in two separate lunches, each wrapped up in a different color cloth— one in royal purple, one in a sage green. When lunchtime finally came around, you immediately set out to find Scaramouche.

It took a bit of searching, but eventually you found the grumpy little boy hiding up on a tree secluded from others.

“Hey!” you shouted, waving to the small figure sitting on the tree.

No reply.

“Hey I brought you lunch!” you tried again, yet it was as if he was purposefully ignoring your presence.

“Oh whatever, I’ll just leave it here,” you said, setting down the purple bento by the base of the tree. “Just make sure to return the lunchbox to me by the end of the day.”

And with that, you ran off, nearly tripping over the sticks that litter the grass.

Scaramouche kept his eyes trained on your figure as you run off, all until you disappear under the blinding sunlight. It was only then did he slowly climbed down from the tree to retrieve the lunch you left him.

He hesitated. Nobody had ever treated him this nicely before, there must be a catch to this. There’s always a catch. His grip on the lunchbox tightened.

It would be a pity to let the food go to waste, but what if it’s all a trap? he stood there, his thoughts running wild. His self-consciousness— and his stomach, called for him to accept the food, yet another part of him screamed for him to throw it away.

In the end he gave in and took a seat under the shade of the tree, the cloth already unwrapped and folded neatly to the side. A slip of paper sat upon the bento— a note from you.

“HI. I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I did put some of my favorites in there. Enjoy your lunch :D”

He set the note aside and opened his lunch. His heart skipped a beat and his face flushed a light shade of pink.

You had made him a bento lunch art. Never in his life did he ever received something like this. It was so childish and so embarrassing.

It was a bunch of miniature rice pandas scattered about with egg rolls acting as flowers. Diced strawberries drizzled with dark chocolate sit in a small plastic container in the corner. There were tiny sausages sculpted in the shape of a octopus right next to the pandas. Sliced cucumbers laid aptly to the side, paired with two cherry tomatoes cut in half.

He nearly teared up. Despite how the art looked like it was made not by your parents but by yourself, he realized that nobody had ever put so much effort into him before.

He almost didn’t want to ruin it.

When classes had finally end, you skipped back to your seat with your friends still chattering as they followed. There sitting on your desk was your other bento box, neatly wrapped in the royal purple cloth. Laying on top of the bento was a folded piece of paper. You picked up the note.

A small thanks was hastily scribbled on with terrible handwriting. You smiled.

From then on it became a routine.

Everyday you would come in to school with an extra lunchbox to give to him, and everyday after school he would return the empty lunchbox back to you. Sometimes you’ll find a snack with a note, sometimes it’ll be a keychain.

Scaramouche never approached you directly to give his thanks, but you felt that an empty lunchbox and his small gifts was already more than enough.

This habit continued all the way through elementary and into your last year of high school. By then your collection of keychains had significantly grew. From a cat keychain to a air conditioner keychain— whatever it may be, there’s a chance that Scaramouche had gifted it to you already.

“Yoi look at what he gave me this time,” you giggled, dangling a badly drawn George Washington keychain in your hands.

Yoimiya stared at the keyring, dumbfounded. “That… how did he even find that? No, where did he even find that?”

You laughed. “He has his ways.”

Fire. Screams.

The sound of the late bell echoed through halls. You found yourself running around different classrooms, searching for Scaramouche.

“Where did Scara go?” you muttered angrily.

“Oh Scaramouche? He left early today,” your seatmate, Lumine, said.

“Already? He hasn’t given me my lunchbox yet…”

…

Where did your title as a hero come from?

“Hurry this way!” your voice hushed, urgency laced within.

Another explosion rocked the entire building, and you stumbled, just barely catching yourself. Your felt the grip on your hand slackened. Fear took a hold of your heart when your hand closed around nothing but the ashy air.

Immediately you turned back, adrenaline coursing through you as you search amongst the rubble and corpses. A faint glint of a jewelry caught your eyes. Nearly tripping over yourself, you scrambled over, taking a hold of the little girls hand once again before running for the exit. You didn’t dare look back, for you knew what awaits you. The walls collapsing one after another as the roaring flames blazes through.

A fiery death.

Shredded newspaper littered your room. Remnants of articles lay in the corner of your room in a pile of ash. Angry slashes marked the walls. Clothes a-strewn, curtain torn apart— the window shattered and boarded up. Noises of a news report filled the silence of your room, its voices blurring into static.

It mimicked your feelings.

A torrent of unquelled fury, one that screamed, raged.

A terrorist attack.

That was what the media called it. It was still unsure who was behind this attack despite the many claims as to who had done it. Proofs in form of photographs or surveillance videos of said suspect were all either too blurry to fully depict or it was just really badly edited.

During the attack, you had stayed behind while the bombs shook the building and the fire raged. And you ran, covered in ash and debris, carrying a unconscious girl in all the while leading a group of survivors— all the way until the promise of a safe haven was in sight.

Perhaps that rescue was what gave you the title as a hero, although for you— you didn’t deserve all that fame and glory.

In fact you hated it.

It was the media’s fault.

They had painted you as a hero, yet they had washed Scaramouche as the one that was behind the attacks. It was because of them that the public now flamed him as a villain.

They had painted an innocent bystander in red all because they needed a scapegoat, someone to shift the blame to because the police couldn’t do their damn job properly.

Had you known this would’ve been the outcome, you would’ve never cared for the lives still ghosting the halls.

Had you known, you would’ve just let them burn.

“Eye witnesses claimed that it was this… boy, who had done such atrocious acts. Any word on it, Ma—”

Click.

“It was terrifying… the look in his eyes. It.. was murderous, like he wanted everyone to burn. If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve have been able to escape…” her voice broke off into a sob. You switched the channel again.

“WANTED ALIVE—”

You threw the remote control at the television in a fit of rage, the screen immediately going blank. You didn’t care. It only adds on to your canvas of unfolding bitterness.

Your phone rang again. A string of calls and messages you chose to ignore. It’d been days since you’ve stepped out from your house, let alone answer any of the calls and messages.

A loud abrupt knock to your door jolt you out from your trance. You draped a light blanket over yourself and went to answer the door.

There standing in all his former and glory, was none other than Scaramouche himself.

Your breath hitched and the blanket slipped.

“Hey idiot,” he smiled, something he claimed to reserve only for you. “Mind letting me in?”

…

You pushed the piles of dirty dishes from the counter into the sink, not caring whether it breaks or not. The once quiet house was filled with the noises of dishes clanking against each other and Scaramouche— who was rummaging through the pile of buildup items.

“Quite the mess you’ve got,” he muses, holding up a piece of a broken mug.

“Where the hell have you been? I was worried sick,” you said, filling up a tea kettle with water.

“Hiding,” he simply replied.

“You didn’t attack the school, so why would you take the blame for it?” you slammed the kettle down onto the stovetop.

Scaramouche shrugged and plopped down on your couch.

“Now everyone is after you,” you continued, turning to face him. “And they even expect me to find you and bring you to the police.”

“They can’t find me, they won’t be able to,” Scaramouche said. “I’d say I’ve been hiding pretty well for these past few days.”

“And you didn’t even tell me? I was worried sick—” your voice broke off, hot tears welling up in the corner of your eyes.

Scaramouche could only sigh as he got off the couch. He came up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, his body leaning against yours. “I’m sorry,” he said, resting his chin on your head.

A tear slipped.

“Don’t cry,” he mumbled.

You broke, pushing your full weight against Scaramouche as sobs racked through your body. He brought a hand up to your head, gently tussling through your hair— the only source of comfort he could bring for now.

Why me?

Why him?

“I hate you,” you said, your fists weakly hitting his chest. “I hate you so much…”

He swiped a tear away. It was futile. The storm had already begun. “Hey…”

You sniffed, wiping the tears off your face.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

You looked up, his purple eyes meeting yours. His thumb brushed against your lips, his face impossibly close to you. You could see every angle of his face, all the flawless imperfections he tries to hide. A light shade of pink dusted his cheeks.

“May I?”

All it took was a small nod from you for him to capture your lips in a kiss. A slow passionate kiss. Time slowed down. You felt the blood rush up to your head, your heart pounding against your chest.

His lips was soft, you noted, and slightly tasted like chocolate— could it be from the chapstick you gifted him before? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. It was only you and him and that was enough. You closed your eyes and deepened the kiss, lacing your arms around his neck.

It was electrifying— your back arching against the counter and him pressed on top of you.

It felt so wrong yet so right at the same time.

He was the first to break the kiss. You already missed the taste of his lips against yours.

“It’ll be okay, I’ll be back. I promise,” he murmured.

In the kitchen, just two to-be graduates, confessing their unspoken feelings not through words, but with their action. Feelings that amassed over the years, finally spilled.

“You promise?”

It was on that faithful night that your relationship with him blossomed into something more intimate.

“I promise.”

It was also on that faithful night that he left.

He’d disappeared, no words— he left nothing.

Not a single trace.

You had foreseen this coming, yet you didn’t realize how much it hurts to have him gone. More often than not, you found yourself unconsciously making an extra bento box for him. More often than not, will you take out everything he had ever given you and stare at it for the hours to come.

The painful pang in your heart was a constant reminder that he’s gone.

He’s gone.

Perhaps his disappearance was what encouraged you to major in criminology and criminal justice after you graduated. It was your fuel of both determination and delusions.

Years passed by in a flash, and before you could even process everything that had happened, you found yourself with a position as a detective in Tenryo Detective Firm.

Yet even after all those years, you haven’t seen or heard from Scaramouche. The last time the two of you had ever interacted was when nearly four years ago, when he had promised you that he’ll be back. And even despite the fact that you’ve been waiting for his presence for year on end, your feelings for him never wavered. You still firmly held onto the promise he had made you, after all Scaramouche is a man that never goes back on his words.

Even if you had to keep waiting. But that’s okay— you’re patient.

“Hey hero, got anything?” Heizou asked, poking his head into your office.

You groaned— both at the stupid nickname and the frustration building up. “Heizou stop with that ugly name, and no, haven’t gotten anything yet. I swear, I’m going to bash my head into the wall.”

“Ahah, I don’t think Sara would like that our hero tries to kill herself. Besides, I’ve got good news. You just got a small tip about the case you’re working on.”

You immediately sat upright in your chair. “What?! When? How come I was just informed of this?”

“The tip just came in, come on, Sara’s telling you to check it out it,” Heizou said, disappearing as he turned away.

You got up from your chair and flung your jacket over your shoulder. “Hold on wait for me! Heizou!”

Hero.

That nickname always brought up unpleasant memories.

Hero.

Solving cases, catching criminals, helping people. It’s what you’ve been doing ever since you graduated, long before the Tenryo Detective Firm took you in.

Could you even be considered a hero?

Gaining a position in this type of job was what allowed you to figure who the real arsonist was behind that attack. But even after the truth had come to light, it was by far, still too late. The damage had already been done, the paint cannot be washed away.

A light breeze from your office window blew at your orderly pile of documents, a couple pages fluttering to the side just as the door closed behind you with a loud slam, your voice screaming for Heizou quickly fading away.

It was silent in your office.

Two sparrows flew to perch on your windowsill, their loud chirps indefinitely breaking the silence. They weren’t staying for long before they flew off— perhaps something had spooked them.

A figure emerged out from the shadows. They scanned their surroundings around for any onlookers, and when they’d made sure that was nobody, they slowly approached your window. With quick and precise movements, they unlatched the window screen lock and slipped in unnoticed.

“I’m in, what now?”

“Get all the documents regarding him.”

“On it.”

They moved with ease, gliding around as they searched through shelves, drawers, anywhere for the required documents. A locked drawer in the corner of your office caught their eyes, and it wasn’t long before the lock was popped off— revealing the stack of documents you’d classified as “IMPORTANT.”

A quick sift through the papers confirmed his needs. “Think I may have found it.”

“Good, did you gather information regarding her too?”

“Hold on, let me check… yeah I think I’ve got that too.”

“Okay, now get out of there. She’s coming back.”

“One moment…”

They carefully stored the documents into their bag and began fiddling with the lock before latching it back onto the drawer. To avoid arousing any suspicion, they had also arranged the room to the way it was exactly how it was before. Books were pushed back into the shelves, the documents on your desk were neatly stacked, thick folders filled with random case documents were inserted back into their original drawers.

Your voice traveling down alerted them. Giving the office one last look, they opened the window and hastily jumped out.

A tiny pin with their insignia fell onto the floor with a quiet clink.

The window dropped shut just as you pushed open the door with Heizou trailing right behind you.

“What kind of tip was that?” you exclaimed. “That was a utter waste of time.”

Heizou shook his head and sighed. “Twisted sense of humor, hate them.”

You plopped down on your chair and spun around. “Riddle this, riddle that. Now I have to stay up to decipher that stupid code. If it’s some dumb message like, ‘I like ice-cream,’ I’m gonna strangle someone.”

“I’ll just leave it on your desk,” Heizou hummed. “I have another case I need to catch. Heard they’ve got a new lead.”

“Finally a new lead for you,” you rolled your eyes. “It’s been weeks.”

“I better come back with a closed case.”

“Come back?” you echoed. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, they found the new lead in the city of Watasumi, so they’re asking me to travel there to further investigate it,” he replied. “I’m going to pack my bags, see you next week!”

“Have fun! Don’t die.”

“I’ll try not to,” Heizou grinned. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

You reached for the small slip of paper Heizou had left on the corner of your desk. Scribbled on it was a string of random code. By no means was this discovery unfamiliar to you. Throughout your career, you’ve dealt with far too many undeciphered codes. And you’ve managed to break through it each time.

This looks easy.

You turned on your monitor and set to work immediately.

When the sun had dipped far below the horizon, when the glow of the moonlight shone into your office— you were still clacking away on your computer, muttering nonsense to yourself as you racked your brain trying to break the code.

The clocked ticked on.

“If delta means this… then hexa should be this… oh shit that’s what it means? Wouldn’t that also change the way hexa is translated? Oh my god… do I really need that again?… fuck I do.”

Groaning loudly, you pushed your chair over to where your locked cabinet is. Your keys clinked against each other as you pushed a small silver key into the lock hole— where all your important files were supposed to be stored.

All the files regarding the disappearance of Scaramouche— and all the documents you’ve written about the various code you’ve solved.

Gone.

Where the fuck did it go?

You stood up, panic prickling at you.

“I didn’t misplaced it right?” you muttered to yourself.

So you searched. Every shelf, every corner, every nook and cranny. You took out folders packed full of other documents and sorted through each one individually, yet even after all the endeavor put into it, you just couldn’t find it.

Dawn was quickly approaching.

You sat back down on your chair— sinking into the plush and took in slow deep breaths in an effort to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Maybe a co-worker took it. But they couldn’t had the keys to it…

You blanked out, lost in your thoughts. A sudden minor detail caught your eyes. You frowned.

When did I close the window?

You got up from your chair, only then a sudden flash of red on your monitor screen recaptured your attention. You sat back down and turned to face the screen, but it seemingly returned back to normal… no, something was wrong.

Your contents had changed, for a canvas of white had replaced the endless amount of tabs you’d opened beforehand. Slowly, words began to format, each letter slowly appearing.

The first rays of the morning sun peeked through your window, consuming the shadows of your office. It was quiet, the only source of sound being your quickened breathing.

Your stomach dropped. You stared at the screen, the cold grasp of fear slowly worming its way into your heart.

It’s over, the eyes watches— it knows.

The clock stopped ticking. The slip of paper on your desk, long forgotten.

series m.list || next

synopsis— [✩]

— you, the hero, disappears overnight, and the only person who looks is the villain. Not your friends, not your family, not the news reporter or any of the people who claimed to love you. Just him, Scaramouche, the very same person who claimed to hate you.

notes— [✩]

— this chapter was meant to be a quick run through from the beginning of you and Scara’s relationship to the “end.” hopefully this hero x villain dynamic makes sense lol 🙏 (the ending kinda sucked ngl)

taglist— [✩`·CLOSED]

#[💫] acaaai-t #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact series #genshin series #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche #genshin x reader #genshin scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin fluff #genshin angst #resurface my love

266 notes · View notes

acaaai-t · 11 months

Text

resurface, my love

02. panic

[fem! reader x villain! scaramouche]

cw: mild angst, sprinkle of fluff, minor character death, cursing

“I thought I said that I wanted her in one piece.”

“Ah sir… she is in one piece…” the voice of the underling trembled.

“Untouched.”

“Please sir, you have to ask the Lieutenant about it. He was the one that delivered the final blow…”

“…Get the Lieutenant. I need to have a word with him.”

“Right away sir,” he dipped his head and quickly exited the room.

He brought his attention back to you. Your still unconscious body lay on a cool metal table, covered by a thin veil of a dress. He stared at the bandages wrapped around your wounded torso. A smile tugged at his lips.

“I’ve finally got you,” he whispered, trailing a slender finger down your thigh.

You shivered.

…

Scaramouche was bored out of his mind.

Being pulled into a sudden meeting in the middle of his break was not something he wish to be dwelling in. He’d rather be out there training— hell, he’d rather be attempting to converse with people than be stuck in the cold and empty chamber they called the conference room. Having all 12 of the Harbingers in the same room was dangerous, he quietly hummed to himself. Someone always ends up in the infirmary.

His eyes wandered up to the crystal chandelier, thousands of tiny precious gems sparkled with even the tiniest bit of movement. It was the only thing that made this place look alive— habitable, even. Everything else was in a cold and mundane black-gray. Even the windows had a dull spark to it despite the sunlight filtering through the thick glass.

“I apologize for this sudden meeting, but it is urgent,” the booming voice of the first Harbinger echoed throughout the empty chamber. Every head was raised to face the speaker. “I’ve just received terrible news that the Fair Lady… she has unfortunately lost her life during her travel to the foreign country of Inazuma.”

Columbina gasped, the tiny angel wings floating around her head fluttered in distress. “Rosalyne is dead?!”

Scaramouche rolled his eyes. He could care less for the death of his co-worker. The type of job they were taking on was incredibly precarious, everyone was aware of that. The cold grasp of death could be just a simple step away if they weren’t careful enough.

Sandrone giggled silently to herself. Her animatronic creaked. “How risible..”

“We warned her not to go on that mission,” a young man with hair of striking deep orange spoke up. He comfortably propped himself up against one of the many pillars for support. “She was too stubborn.”

“Childe…” the women to his left hissed. Her short silvery hair hinted with accents of black was swipe to the side, perfectly framing her sharp features. The red x’s in her eyes flashed dangerously.

“Sorry,” the ginger shrugged. “I’m just saying. Signora should have been more careful.”

“Show some respect for the dead, wouldn’t you? Rosalyne died in a foreign land.”

“I know— I am showing respect, I was just pointing out facts.”

“You—”

“Arclecchino, Tartaglia. Cease fire, please,” the first Harbinger sighed.

“Sorry Pierro…” the two muttered.

Scaramouche snickered.

“Everyone, please. Take a seat,” Pierro gestured to the large throne-like chairs wrapping the rectangular table in a circle.

Once everyone had taken their respective seats, he cleared his throat. “The Fair Lady’s funeral will take place in exactly a month from now,” he began. “We will have…”

Scaramouche zoned out, drowning out the voice of his boss as he stared off into the distance.

“… now The Doctor can handle the process of… where’s The Doctor?” Pierro frowned, eyes flickering over to the only vacant seat.

“The Doctor is busy gathering medicinal supplies out in the garden, he’s given a message that he’ll be late,” Sandrone said. Her voice was small, yet it held an ominous feeling to it. The automaton she sat on sounds like it’s in desperate need of oil.

The Regrator chuckled, the thin frame of his silver glasses glinted. “Always busy with something. I can pass on the message to him later. I have a meeting with him anyways.”

Pierro nodded. “Thank you Pantalone. Now as for the rest of you, I expect all of you to attend Rosalyne’s funeral.”

Scaramouche felt multiple lingering stares on him. He huffed in annoyance. “I’m aware.”

“Good,” Pierro looked around the table one last time, his eye flickering over to each face. “Any questions?”

A collective response of ‘no’ resounded throughout the chamber.

Pierro adjusted his eyepatch before giving his final statement. “Council adjourned.”

…

Everything was dark. Dark and cold.

You didn’t know where you were. You couldn’t talk, nor could you move.

It was quiet, the only source of noise was your steady rhythm of your heartbeat. And if you strain hard enough, you could hear bubbles faintly popping in the background.

“How is she doing?”

A distorted voice. You perked up.

“Her vitals are steady, her stab wound is slowly healing too.”

Stab wound? ...Oh right.

You vaguely remember being stabbed before awaking in this empty space. The wound was still painfully throbbing. Questions race through your mind. Why were you stabbed? What had happened beforehand? Where were you?

Why can’t you remember anything?

“Good, good. Keep watching her until she gains consciousness. Make sure to immediately call for me if she wakes up.”

“Yes sir.”

‘But I am awake.’ you wanted to scream.

But just no matter how hard you try, there’s no sound that comes out. Not even a single peep. You were alone in this tiny shell of an empty space.

…

Scaramouche shuffled through his paperwork, trying to sort each into different categories. Even though his meeting with the Harbingers had been long over, he still wasn't free from the work he was bound to. "Meeting to discuss the next factory expansion... that can wait," he mumbled, placing the parchment onto the growing pile he deemed 'unimportant'.

A knock on his door drew his attention away. "Come in," he said, placing another contract onto the 'unimportant' pile all without sparing it a single glance.

The large wooden door creaked open— Scaramouche really needs to get someone to oil the hinges, it was going to drive him insane long before his work does. He didn't bother to look up to greet the guest, his pens scribbling down his signature wherever it says ‘sign here’. "State your name and business," he grumbled.

"Ah, Scaramouche, is this how you greet old friends?" a light chuckle followed his words.

His pen stopped writing midway as he looked up to face his guest. A rare smile appeared. "I was wondering when you'll be back, wandering samurai."

The samurai returned the smile. His white hair, still streaked with that familiar shade of red, was mussed up— perhaps it was from the wind. Scaramouche could've sworn he saw a stray leaf tangled up in his hair. The small white cat tucked in between his black haori jacket swatted at his low ponytail. "It has been awhile," he replied. "Ow Tomo, don't do that."

“Take a seat, Kaedehara.”

“I thought we would’ve dropped the formalities by now. Please, call me Kazuha,” the young man said as he pulled up a seat by Scaramouche’s desk.

Scaramouche folded his hands together and leaned forward. “Well Kazuha, what is it you have to tell me?”

The atmosphere thickened.

…

A jolt.

You opened your eyes, startled.

It was still dark. Trapped in an empty space of nothingness was eventually going to drive you insane.

“Hello?! Anyone there?!” you called out, streams of bubbles trailing upwards with every words you speak. You were trapped underwater, that you could confirm.

You received no answer. Was that jolt you felt just a figment of your imagination? You don’t know how long you’ve been stuck in here. Have you already gone insane?

…

“What?”

“It happened just two nights before, when I was taking a nice stroll with Tomo here, in the evening.”

Pen down, papers casted aside. Scaramouche stared into the crimson of Kazuha’s eyes. “And you didn’t do anything to stop it?”

“I couldn’t. By the time I saw it happen, your beloved had already been transported away.”

Scaramouche visibly cringed at the nickname Kazuha used for you, but he didn’t say anything. “Do you know where— no, who took her?”

A shake of his head. “Unfortunately not. I can however, provide you with the information of her last whereabouts.”

“Write it down,” Scaramouche said, handing a blank sheet of paper and a ballpoint pen to him. “Everything you can remember.”

Anxiety crashed upon him. Never in his life has he ever felt this kind of fear. His finger tapped against the wooden table, a repetitive noise filling up the silence of the room as Kazuha writes.

“Here,” Kazuha said, handing the paper back to Scaramouche. He snatched it away, nearly tearing the paper in half.

“You know…” Kazuha continued. “I could always get my team to investigate… her disappearance.”

“You’re sounding like you were the one that took her.”

Kazuha laughed. “You’ll kill me. Besides, my team is good at these kind of things.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just come to you if I need the extra help,” Scaramouche got up from his seat. “I’ll go talk to my boss and request a break.”

“What if he doesn’t approve?”

His grip on the door handle tightened, then relaxed. “He can’t tell me what to do. I’ll still leave even if he says no.”

“Then what’s the point of asking…?”

“So he doesn’t come for my ass.”

…

They were back. You could hear them. Their barely coherent mumbling traveling through the thin space your floating in.

“… files regarding her?” it was that voice again, the one that had asked how you were doing.

“It should be in that cabinet to the left, third drawer,” a new voice.

“Go get it.”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh look, she’s conscious.” he sounded amused.

You hated that condescending tone laced so deeply within his voice.

“Should we open—”

“No no, I would like to study her more.”

Study?! You clenched your fists, anger surging through your veins. You were no animal to be poked and prodded at, not a strange creature need to be studied and experimented on.

“Sir her pressure is spiking, should I be concerned?”

You were you. Just a commoner working as a detective in the Tenryo Commission solving minor crimes. Could one of the cases you’ve broken through provoked the Fatui?

…

The Fatui.

That must’ve awaken something inside you, for suddenly you didn’t care about escaping this place as much anymore.

You had shifted your priorities over to The Fatui, trying to dig up as much information as you have on it. You hazily remembered researching about this strange organization before, but you had put it all aside when your boss had presented you with a new case.

Though you may have lost your memories on the events that unfolded beforehand, it didn’t seem to block away the information you’ve gathered years ago. Closing your eyes, you allowed your consciousness to open up the path of memories regarding the Fatui.

“Never mind… it went back down to normal.”

“Note that down. Note every change down.”

‘There are 11 Harbingers, each one controlling a part of the organization. They all rely off of given codenames, their real names remains a mystery. If my memory serves, the ringleader should be going by the codename of The Jester…”

“A break? For what?” Pierro asked, his brows furrowing. He set his feathered quill back into the tiny ink bottle.

“What do you mean why? I want a break because I want to rest,” Scaramouche retorted.

Pierro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Dealing with The Balladeer gives him constant headaches, headaches that lingers for the rest of his day. “Fine. How long?”

“A month.”

“2 weeks. You still have plenty of unfinished duties.”

“A month and two weeks.”

“… a month.”

Scaramouche grinned. “Thanks Pierro.”

“Yes yes, whatever. Get out of my office,” he hadn’t even finish his sentence before Scaramouche was gone, leaving his office door swinging. “Could’ve atleast closed the door…”

‘The second of the Harbingers, The Doctor. Infamously know for the rumors circulating on about his experiments on humans. Not much information was found about this strange individual, classified him as dangerous.’

“Well, if it isn’t the Balladeer.”

Scaramouche narrowed his eyes. “What do you want, Dottore,” he spat out. This was the last person he wanted to see.

“Nothing, just heard that you’ve requested for a month long break. Quite unusual, no?” Dottore smiled, his rows of sharp teeth glinting.

Scaramouche laughed dryly. He really wanted to punch this man in the face. “The decisions I make in my life has nothing to do with YOU.”

Dottore clicked his teeth. “Ever the sharp tongue.”

Scaramouche muttered an angry fuck off and pushed him away, making sure to send a hateful glare at the Doctor before he rounded the corner.

Dottore stood there, looking amused.

‘The third, fourth and fifth. Damselette and The Rooster. Whereas official reports had spoken of the fifth as a kind and caring man, the third however, was the opposite. Little is known about her, records have it that while she seemed like the weaker type, it is better to not underestimate her ability. I have placed her into the dangerous category. The fourth still remains unknown. I have searched everywhere I can, there is little to no information regarding the fourth.’

“Oh shit—”

“Ah!—” Columbina stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over her cloak when Scaramouche quite literally ran into her.

“Scaramouche, please. I’ve told you so many times to be careful,” Pulcinella scolded, his mustache quivering.

“Sorry…” he hastily mumbled. “Are you okay?”

Columbina nodded, readjusting her mask. “I’m fine.”

“Good, bye.”

“Scaramouche wait,” Pulcinella called out. He held out a cloth covered basket. “If you see Arclecchino, please give this to her.”

Scaramouche took the basket from him and disappeared. He could care less if a bomb was ticking away in there.

‘The sixth harbinger goes by the codename The Balladeer. He is widely known inside the Fatui for his terrible mannerisms and snappy attitude. While it was rumored that he was a puppet and not human, that claim has long been proven to be false. This man reminds me of him, I do not know why. I could not find any more information regarding this member.’

“Fucking dammit,” Scaramouche huffed angrily to himself. “Why get me to do his shit? Couldn’t that old man just gotten someone else to do it? Wasting my fucking time…”

‘The seventh is a strange one. Marionette, or as most popularly known as, The Puppet, was a peculiar women. Research had surfaced that Marionette herself is one of the brilliant inventors that holds a fair share of power in the technological world. Her most famous works is the remodeling of ruin guards, designed to destroy and kill— popularly used during wartimes. Many military officials and even the government look up to her works. A small figure, a large power holder.’

Scaramouche felt the ground just slightly tremble. He groaned. The ground shaking in the base of operation could only mean one thing— one of Sandrone’s stupid robots was stomping his way.

Sandrone sat on the palm of the outstretched robotic hand, her gaze was cold as she stared down at Scaramouche.

“What?” Scaramouche sneered, already fed up with her presence.

She didn’t reply. With a quick flick of her wrist, the robot began moving once more, creaking with each step as it trotted down the hall. Now Scaramouche was confused and even more pissed.

‘Eighth, ninth, and tenth. The Eighth, named the Fair Lady— was a powerful figure. The last she was seen was when she ventured into the empire of Inazuma, perhaps to negotiate with the Shogunate. There has been no traces of her ever since. The Regrator holds the ninth position and the Northland Bank. He was the one who controlled the flow of money between the Fatui. A calm and serious man who just seemed to be interested in the political state of the city— although there might be something more to it.

In stark contrast to the stoic man, the tenth Harbinger was an enthusiastic being. I have met him while researching a case on a missing girl. He seemed to be the least hostile out of all the Harbingers presented. Though he seemed to pose a problem for bloodlust, always eager to shed blood.’

“Hey ‘moochie,” Tartaglia called out, waving Scaramouche over.

Scaramouche paid the ginger no mind, instead choosing to remain silent as he passed by.

“Not even a hello? You’re too mean, Scaramouche.”

“Now there, Childe. Let’s not provoke him. Lest you want to end up with a black eye again,” Pantalone said.

“I’ll take any fight I can get,” Childe grinned. “Come on, ‘moochie.”

That infuriating nickname was really getting to him. Scaramouche’s grip on the basket tightened. “Tartaglia, why don’t you kindly shut the fuck up?”

Pantalone sighed, slightly shaking his head. “Childe…”

Childe’s grin only grew bigger. His left hand twitched just slightly, yet Scaramouche caught on to it. He saw it as a sign that he was itching for a fight, a habit he’s seen Childe do whenever something seems to aggravate him.

“Ah, your words hurt me, comrade,” Childe laughed humorlessly. “Let’s spar whenever you have time. Anyways Pantalone what were you saying?”

“I’m cutting off your funds for the time being…”

“What?!”

Scaramouche rolled his eyes and quickly walked away, the exasperated voice of Childe echoing in the background.

“Child you spend nearly 1 and a half million Mora on a bowl…”

“… that’s… gift…”

‘The last Harbinger, The Knave. Her position in the Fatui still remains unknown, but while it was rumored that she was a low ranking, it is still best to not belittle her. I had the unfortunate experience running into one of her many spiders planted within the barricaded city of Snezhnaya. From that I could only conclude The Knave controls the communications between the winter wasteland and the world around them. The spiders— spies, are her eyes and ears.’

“For me?” Arclecchino said, arching a brow.

“Yeah, the old man said it was for you.”

Arclecchino carefully took the basket from Scaramouche. She flipped open the cloth and took a peek inside. “Oh,” she huffed, lowering the basket to the side. “It’s snacks he made for the orphanage.”

“That’s nice. I’m gonna go now,” Scaramouche was quick to cut the conversation short. He really didn’t want to see another one of his coworkers again, let alone anyone else.

Kazuha was still waiting patiently back in his office, playing with his cat. He looked up, momentarily distracted when Scaramouche banged open the door.

He opened his mouth to greet Scaramouche, but was quickly cut off. “Get your things, we’re leaving,” Scaramouche said curtly.

“Rush not, my friend,” Kazuha hummed. “The sun is still high.”

“Fuck that, get your cat.”

“Tomo, come here,” Kazuha scooped his cat up into his embrace and tucked him back inside his haori. “Say, where’s our destination?”

A pair of keys clinked against a black moon keychain as Scaramouche twirled it around his finger. “To her house.”

The sunlight disappeared, covered by the rolling gray clouds. Suddenly the room felt cold.

…

‘There’s no way I could’ve done something to wrong the Tenth with his relaxed personality. And I’m sure I haven’t committed any crimes against the Jester for him to take such an audacious approach. As for the rest…

… no, that wouldn’t make sense. I’ve never seen, let alone interacted— with any of them. The only possibility is that one of the cases I’ve solved must’ve disrupted them. Now the question remains. Which one?’

Your thoughts were interrupted when a knock resounded through your space. You immediately picked it up as metal, a thin one. You were trapped in a metal container filled with water? What the fuck?

“Still alive in there?”

Footsteps pattered towards the unknown speaker.

“Course she’ll be alive. My inventions are second to none.”

“After many trial and error, that is.”

Trial and error?

It was getting more and more confusing by the second.

“Yes yes, have uh— oh you’re here. Come, I need you to watch over her for the next couple hours. And you, come with me.”

“Next couple hours?! Can’t you just like, put her to sleep or something? I’m sure your brilliant technologies can do that.”

“Turn on the anesthesia then. You’ll still have to watch over her either ways.”

‘Wait no.’

You could only panic, unable to move as you felt the effects kick in. Your eyes drooped heavily, your breathing gradually slowing down.

You knew it in your heart that there was no use fighting it. It was a losing battle either ways.

…

“What the fuck?…” Scaramouche said, pushing open the door to your house.

It was pitch-black. All the curtains and shades were tightly drawn closed. The moment Scaramouche stepped into your abode, he felt something amiss. Something felt very wrong.

His eyes darted around, scanning the environment. He flicked open the light switch, and your house brightened to life almost immediately.

“You know, it’s quite concerning about that fact that you have keys to her house,” Kazuha spoke up, stepping up right behind Scaramouche.

“Not concerning. She gave me the permission to do so,” Scaramouche went into your kitchen. Kazuha followed suit.

“Years ago, that is.”

Scaramouche ignored him.

Everything looked tidy. Dishes were neatly stacked, pots and pans hang next to each other, and your fridge— oh god your fridge. Perhaps that was the only thing standing out the most.

Covered in various magnets and crumpled up sticky notes, it made quite a sight. Scaramouche took a closer look at your notes.

‘Buy eggs!!’

‘Age 32, 168cm tall female gone missing, ask Sara about it.’

Ripped up newspaper clippings were held up by the magnets, each one with different bolded headline labeling it. It was all the news about the crimes you’ve solved, mysteries you’ve cracked— all your accomplishments accumulated in this one tiny place. He smiled softly to himself, old conversations pooling up.

“I’m going to be a detective when I grow older,” you announced, beaming happily.

“No way,” he retorted.

You crossed your arms and puffed out your cheeks. “Yes way. Just watch.”

“Uh-huh… last time you said you wanted to be a firefighter, and now you’re changing it again.”

“I’m being serous this time!”

“That’s what you also said last time.”

He took one of the newspaper clipping and tucked it into his pockets and left the kitchen, heading upstairs for your bedroom. The stairs creaked loudly with every step he took. Meanwhile Kazuha continued to look through your belongings downstairs.

“Holy shit,” was all he could muster out.

The sight that greeted him when he opened the door left him speechless— speechless and scared. Eyes wide, hands shaking… he was scared. Scared to even see the mess of what was left.

It was the only room in the house that was absolutely trashed. Your desk was overturn, chair firmly wedged between your bookshelves. Files, books, papers— scattered. Even your clothes weren’t left unharmed, tossed carelessly to the side. Traces of blood on the fluffy white rug left his heart thumping. The only thing left intact was the acrylic shelves tucked against the corner of your closet.

His orderly composure wavered at the sight of it.

After all those years, you’ve been secretly safely storing away every one of the little gifts he gave you. All those times, he had thought you thrown them away.

Scaramouche pulled out the shelf, years of nostalgia finally catching up to him. He remembered the first keychain he had ever gifted you was a matching one. You were the sun, and he was the moon.

“It’s a matching one!” Yoimiya exclaimed. “That’s so cute! He definitely loves you.”

“Yoi stop. You and I match all the time too, doesn’t mean we’re lovers,” you rolled your eyes, placing the empty lunchbox and the keychain into your bag.

“Uh-huh, keep lying to yourself.”

Scaramouche stood outside your classroom door, one hand over his face. A deep blush dusted his face red. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your conversation, he just so happened to be here earlier than usual to pick you up.

“Hey lover boy,” Kazuha smirked.

“Shut the fuck up.”

He wondered if you kept the sun with you too.

Along with the keychains were also the note he had often left you with after returning the lunch box. There was also Polaroids of him, all in embarrassing situations taken by you.

“Throw that away.”

“No, I’ve used a film on it. Not going to waste,” you said, tucking the photo away. “Besides, it’s a good picture.”

“Me tripping is not funny,” he grumbled, dusting off the dirt clinging to his pants. “How is that even a good picture?”

You snickered. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Moments caught when he tripped on air, memories frozen in time when the two of you hung out together— to eat, to have fun, or to stargaze. It was years worth of memories, all preserved by you. He really couldn’t believe the fact that you’ve kept everything.

Kazuha silently appeared by the doorframe. There was a mournful look in his eyes as he watched Scaramouche look through everything. Even his cat was silent, his amber eyes peeked around curiously.

Scaramouche took a deep breath. He placed the shelf back to its original position and stood up. There was no time for him to be moping around all sad and lonely.

“Help me look,” he said.

Tomo jumped out from Kazuha’s jacket and clambered on to your bed, where he proceeded to loaf up and stare at the two.

Kazuha began with organizing your clothes, carefully hanging everything back into the closet, even if it was shredded into strings of rag.

Scaramouche looked through the mess of the papers on the floor. Files and documents you’ve kept on cases that’s either still ongoing or has long been solved. He looked through every file individually, scanning through the messy documents sorted within.

He had never been this deliberated with anything before— other that that one time when Pierro had threatened him if he hadn’t finished his work within a week. Scaramouche swears he’ll never let that happen again. Useless folders were stacked to the side, things that may be of help was placed into a different stack.

One particular document caught his attention, a document buried under everything else. He picked it up.

It was stained with a big blotch of what looks to be a coffee— or tea, spill. The words you’ve penned was blurred into a blob of ink where the liquid had dried. Despite that, he could still just barely make out some of the writings.

His heart dropped.

…

You didn’t know how long you were asleep for, but everything had gone silent. No voices talking, no humming of the machines. Groggily, you opened your eyes, only to immediately squeeze them shut when the unnecessarily bright light blinded you.

‘Light?’

“Your finally awake.”

You jumped at the sound of his voice. Footsteps echoed throughout the room as you listen to him closing the distance. He stopped just short of where you were.

“Guess the numbness still hasn’t fade away just yet,” he laughed.

‘What do you want,’ you wanted to ask, but found yourself still with the inability to speak. Paralyzed, you realized. You could not move a single muscle. This man must’ve done something to fry your nerves, rendering you useless.

“Now now, I don’t have enough time to waste. I am a busy man, you know?” he spoke, snapping on a pair of gloves. “So it’ll be very nice if you could cooperate with me.”

He pushed something towards your way. Horror-stricken, you came to the realization of what he was going to do to you. Your breathing quickened.

‘No, oh god no.’

“Not like you do could anything either way,” he cackled, delighted by your terrified expression. “I’ve waited so long to get my hands on you, now that you’re finally here… I can’t wait to confirm my suspicions.”

You would rather be trapped in whatever you were in before for the years to come. Anything. You would do anything to get out of this situation.

A shadow came forward, blocking the light. You felt a tear rolling down your cheek.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

previous || series m.list || next

synopsis— [✩]

notes— [✩]

— had to finish all my regents omg this took forever, I’m so sorry for the late update 😭 sorry if there’s any errors lol

taglist— [✩`·CLOSED]

@akairaindrops @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @elernity @shayewrites @angel-suicides @magica-ren @kyouzki @nana-bri @avxntxrine @bleedingwhiteroses222 @rainingduringsummer @darthvada @dan9a-00 @omgblade-starrail @kichiyoshi @inufinuf @vvyeislazzy @alatusorrow @franaby @mellowberrie @sketcheeee @etherisy @crmnic @arizzu @vrisso @id3ru @mochicurls21 @kairuthewriter @suqarlaced @saetorii @anura100000 @divinechicha @starlightaura @karablueyt @supercoolusernameomg @uhh-traashyy @kazuuhhaaaa @lumpywolf @chaosinanutshell @ariilovesmoney @hamsuigok @pooonyo @sweetsthetik @i-luvyuu @kunikissr

#[💫] acaaai-t #resurface my love #genshin #genshin impact #genshin series #genshin x reader #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin scaramouche x reader

282 notes · View notes

acaaai-t · 11 months

Text

resurface, my love

01. whispers of the wind

[fem! reader x villain! scaramouche]

cw: violence, blood, kidnapping, usage of guns, mentions of illegal drug trades, lots of cursing, bits of fluff and angst

Scaramouche was pissed.

It was evident with the grip he had on the newspaper.

His subordinates stood in the corner of the room, heads downcast. No words were spoken, for none wishes to be the one suffering under the wrath of the Balladeer.

On the small HD television hanging above his desk, a news broadcast began to play. Scaramouche brought his eyes up to watch it, his interest piqued.

"Our ever reliable detective has once again solve another puzzling crime! This breakthrough of the undergoing illegal drug trade has finally been stopped. So how did you do it, young detective?"

The camera panned to your face. He narrowed his eyes.

"Well, someone gave an anonymous tip about the whereabouts of the drug trade. All I did was crack the code and—" he switched the television off.

The silence was deafening.

Scaramouche slammed the newspaper to the side, the sound resonating around the too-empty room.

"How the fuck did you guys mess up this badly?" he growled. "I gave specific instructions and none of you were able to follow it?" His voice had an dangerous edge to it.

The room was still.

"You," he snarled, pointing at the male agent trembling in the corner. "Tell me everything that happened."

…

"You look worn out, are you alright?" your boss, Kujou Sara, asked.

You waved your hand. "I'm fine, it's just being surrounded by cameras all day drained me."

Sara laughed and patted your back. "I wouldn't be surprise. This case has been ongoing for years, you're the only one who've managed to close it."

"Well it was mostly thanks to that anonymous tip. If it wasn't for that, I feel this would never end," you said, a tired smile appearing.

"You are our best decoder here, couldn't replace you even if I tried," Sara said. "I'll take my leave now. You should quickly finish up too, everyone left already. Don’t tire yourself out too much.”

You nodded. "Night Sara."

The door clicked shut.

What was that message suppose to mean? Was it meant to be a threat? Should I tell Sara?— what if it was just a harmless prank?

You mindlessly typed away on your computer, yet you just could not bring yourself to focus on your work. It was unrelenting with the way it kept repeating over and over again in your mind.

The typing stopped. You couldn't bear it any longer. This continuous heavyweight of stress will only keep growing, festering until the host, you, finally suffocate under the pressure. It begs— screams to be free.

Pushing your chair back, you walked over to your window and nudged it opened it. A puff of the chilly autumn air gently tugged at the collar of your shirt.

The light glimmer of the moonlight was a dull comparison to the galaxy of clinquant star, the glittering white specks stretching across the vast skies of Teyvat.

"Stars..” you breathed out.

The two of you use to stargaze. It was a monthly routine, whenever the skies cleared the clouds for the river of stars to sparkle— was when the two of you lay next to each other on the grass, facing the deep blue empyrean.

He would point out the various constellations to you, rambling on about what it was and what it meant.

"I never thought you would be the one into astrology," you said. "Thought it was just a me thing."

Scaramouche rolled his eyes. "I'm a man of many things, what did you expect?"

You laughed.

No, he would never admit it.

He'd rather die than tell you that he'd learn about the stars of the sky just so he could tell you everything about it. He'd rather die than tell you that it was all because he wanted to see you smile, to hear your laughter. To see the surprise that lights up your eyes.

You wiped away an unsuspecting tear rolling down your cheeks. Everything was a constant reminder that the boy you once love is gone.

You hated it.

You could only drown yourself in work, taking on more cases than you should in an effort to forget his voice, his face— everything. But no matter how hard, how much you try, it just doesn't work.

For you could still feel the ghost of his touch brushing against your cheek, you could still hear his voice, calling out to you.

The soft humming of your computer brought you back.

Right, there was still work needed to be to finish. You sighed and pushed yourself away from the window.

"I'll just finish this page up, then l'll clock out," you muttered.

You sat back down on your chair and spun around in a useless attempt to calm your mind. A golden glint in the corner of your room caught your eye. You stopped spinning.

What's that?

It was a tiny pin in a shape of a badge. You squinted closer, there was an insignia stamp on it. It closely resembled something, yet you couldn't placed your mind on exactly what it is. You took out your phone and snapped a picture of it. Sending the picture to Heizou, you had made sure to ask him if he knew what that insignia represented.

Plink!

Startled, you looked up to where the source of noise came from, but there was nothing. It just you alone in your office.

Plink!

There it was again. You frowned, tucking your phone into your back pocket.

Suddenly the lights dimmed. Someone had cut the power to the entire building.

There wasn't enough time for you to react, for you froze—words caught up in your throat. You could see it, the tiny crack appearing on the windowpane. Whatever it was, it was slowly breaking down the barrier protecting you from the outside.

Slowly backing off, you reached for the gun tucked under your desk. The crack grew bigger. A silhouette of a person came into view. Your hands curled around the handle of the gun and tore it away from the hostler. A quick click had your gun locked and loaded.

You held your breath and slid under your desk.

The spiderweb crack only grew bigger before it effectively shattered— a loud 'ouch' following suit. Whoever was behind it must've gotten impatient and opted to punch through the glass instead.

Your eyes mirrored the reflection of the crumbling glass under the moonlight.

“Stupid lieutenants... always making me do the dirty work..." you heard the unknown muttering. A male— judging by the pitch of his voice.

There was the sound of glass breaking as the shadow of a man clambered in though the window, effectively blocking your only source of light.

He's in.

You dare not move.

"Anyone here? Hello?" his voice was gruff. "Hey little girl, I know you're in here. I saw you."

He stopped right at your desk and shoved the chair away.

You heard it crash into the bookshelf. A pair of dirty winter boots was all you could see.

Go away, you don't see me.

Much to your dismay, he didn't leave. You felt the blood rush up to your head when you saw him slowly bending down.

Fuck.

You came face to face with a man in dressed black and teal, a tall navy blue hat along with his black mask obscured his face. The only visible feature you could see was his golden orbs.

"Found you," there was a malicious glint in his eyes.

You didn't know what overcame you. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or it was purely on instinct— but whichever it may be had you aiming the gun at his face. You didn't think twice, squeezing your eyes shut and pulling the trigger. The resonating bang made you wince.

His figure went still, then slowly, he toppled backwards and crashed onto the floor— a pool of ugly red blood slowly seeping out.

I killed him.

"Hey Cor are you okay? I heard a gun go off," a new voice trailed over. The moonlight was once blocked again, a flashlight glaring over at corpse. "Cor— holy shit! Guys over here, hurry up! Cor?! Are you alive?!"

You wasted no time in scrambling away from the expired individual. The door nearly flew off its hinges as you bursted through. Fuck if the damages you've done would cost you a portion of your monthly salary, all it mattered to you was getting out. If you were fast enough, you could make it to the nearest police station to report the break-in— and attempted kidnapping.

The attackers were hot in pursuit. You heard the ever so familiar sound of a gun being loaded. A bullet whizzed by you, hitting the wooden structure of the building. You heard the wall cracked just the slightest bit.

The Tenryo House has never been so big before. Room after rooms, there just never seem to be an end to it. Your lungs burned. Everything seemed like a maze.

Suddenly a group of two blocked the only way you could escape. You looked back, the other band was also rapidly approaching. “Shit…” you mumbled. There were people blocking the only exit. You could only conclude that the perimeter of the building was also surrounded.

"Hey little girl," you could hear the heinous intent in his voice. "Now why don't you surrender? It'll be so much easier.

"As if,” you sneered, gun raised.

One of the bigger guys stepped forward. You tensed up, the rhythm of your heart beating in your head. He charged at you, his knife aimed for your eye.

Years of training kicked in. The gun was immediately lowered. You dodged to one side, barely avoiding death.

Scaramouche’s voice echoed in your head.

"You need to learn how to fight," Scaramouche had demanded.

"What? Why?" at that time you had complained. "I don't need to know how to fight. Can't you protect me?"

You frantically looked around, searching for anything that could be of help. Your gun was near useless, for you could clearly see the thick bulletproof vest strapped on tightly.

A knife, a wrench, anything you could use to defend yourself, to kill. You yelped as the knife whooshed by, just missing your head by a hairs breadth.

By this time the other group had already caught up, their weapons were locked on you. None dared fired yet, for why ruin a show spectacularly put on for them?

"I- I won't always be around to protect you," was his reply.

The front desk spilt in half, pens spilling everywhere.

Your opponent had long abandoned his knife— tossed away somewhere. Instead, he chose to use his fists. It was like playing tag but deadlier with a block of pure muscle.

You could only run. The only advantage you have over him was your nimbleness. You were a graceful swan drifting in the smooth waters, and he was the stark contrast— a giant stumbling through a cave too small.

There was no way you could escape from the Commission without him decking you.

You were beaten near unconscious. Bruises bloomed all over your body, specks of blood and dust dirtied your dress.

His fists were curled up into tiny balls. Dirt and grime covered his clothes in ugly splotches of brown. He wiped a bloody streak away from his face. His gaze was piercing as he stared down the two boys.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he sounded insane.

When his fists made contact with your stomach, you could do nothing, your wind knocked out of you. The second hit came, then the third, fourth.

You stumbled backwards each time the blow came upon you. Blocking each hit was getting increasingly difficult.

The light flickered back to life. For just the briefest moment, everyone paused. Then the lightbulb promptly exploded, leaving the room once again pitch-black.

That seconds under the bright light was your newfound source of energy, for you had saw everything you needed to know. Pushing away the pain throbbing in your lower abdomen, you made a break for the blade lying on the floor.

He was upon you almost instantly.

You felt an immense pressure on top of you. Your breath was knocked out. Yet despite this, you still grabbed onto the dagger and wrenched it towards yourself.

Mere seconds was all you need, an opening of some sort. Perhaps the gods above heard your wishes, for he suddenly froze over.

Seizing this moment, you jammed the knife into the only opening you found— his eye. Blood slowly dripped down his face, the knife firmly lodged in. With minor difficulty, you pulled the knife out.

It was then that his cries of pain came. You were released from his hold, tumbling to the side. His comrades ran to his side, a roll of bandages already in their hands.

You took this chance to run. In a way you felt bad, but it was a life or death situation. It was either you or him, and there can only be one winner.

One of them barked out an order. You couldn’t exactly hear what they said, but their actions told enough. Seemingly fed up with your antics, they began pelleting you with what’s left of their bullets.

One grazed your cheek and another clipped your arm. You felt your arm burn. The pain wasn’t noticeable at first, but then it started to fucking hurt. You used your hand to cover the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. It was useless. Blood kept gushing out, staining your new shirt in a deep crimson.

The exit was right in front of your eyes. You shouldered through the two agents standing by the door, accidentally tripping one over in the process. Small droplets of blood trailed behind you.

The fresh air of Inazuma hits your face. It felt refreshingly cold— calming the burning pain in your arms for just the tiniest moment. You weren’t given enough time to relish it before the few remaining guys also came through, guns aimed.

You yelped and quickly ran behind a random building, only to encounter a poor straggler who seemed just as surprise to see you as you are to see him. No chances were taken though. With one fell swoop, you had knocked him unconscious.

You can’t rest, not yet. The pattering of their boots were heavy against the pavement as each spilt into smaller parties to search for you. Time was ticking.

Very slowly, you removed your hand from your wound. The bleeding had slowed, but blood was still dribbling out. You’d searched the unconscious person for any sort of first aid. As luck would have it, you found a small kit. In it was a small roll of gauze, a couple of alcohol prep pads, and bandages of all kinds.

You ripped opened the alcohol pads and took in a deep breath. It took every ounce of energy to suppress a scream building up. Your arms trembled.

“Now you see why you have to fight?” he was angry, yet not angry enough to leave you unattended.

“Yeah.. sorry,” you mumbled. You yelped when Scaramouche dabbed at your wounds. “Ah— Scara! A warning please.”

“Sorry.”

“You are not sorry, I can see you laughing— ouch!”

The roll of gauze may be short, but it was enough to temporarily patch your wound. You sealed it off with a Sailor Moon bandage. The bullet dug into your flesh, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on the pain right now.

Not in this dire situation. Footsteps were slowly approaching, each step slow. You frantically took out your phone.

“And what,” your blood ran cold. “Do you think you’re doing?”

You froze, phone slipping away. The cool muzzle of a small pistol was pressed up against your temple.

“Put the phone down.”

You did as told.

“Both hands up.”

You raised one arm.

“I said both.”

“I can’t,” you rebutted. “Your people shot my arm and now I can’t move it without screaming in pain.”

You heard her scoff. “Fucking idiots. Couldn’t even follow a simple order. And you. You are really weak, do you know? Can’t even handle a little bit of pain?”

Your free hand slowly edged towards the pistol lying by the unconscious fellow. “Well miss, have you ever been shot before?” you replied through gritted teeth.

She grinned. “Plenty.”

“Does it hurt?”

“You’re stalling for time,” she said. A flying mirror next to her glittered. It suddenly flashed red. “Get up.”

“So it doesn’t hurt? Then I suppose another one shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

You smiled and pointed the gun at her. Two shots was all it took for her body to go limp. The mirror fell to the side, cracked.

“The Maiden— she collapsed!”

“She’s been shot! Get the medic here!”

“Is she dead?!”

She wasn’t dead, you hadn’t shoot to kill. You had only fatally wounded her, rendering her temporarily useless.

The unconscious fellow stirred. They weren’t fully awake yet, but just for good measures, you dropped a semi-empty crate on their head. They knocked out once again.

You grabbed the Maiden’s broken mirror and ran. Perhaps Heizou can analyze it for you.

More enemies emerged from the shadows of the alleyways. Bullet shells tinkled against the pavement. Standing out in the open was far too risky.

An huge explosion rocked the ground. You stumbled and looked up, the image of fire and smoke mixed together reflecting in your eyes. Horror dawned on you when your realized they had just bombed the police station.

Another explosion was heard, this time seemingly closer to you. With no other choices left, you began running towards your abode. That was the only place you could find temporary sanctuary in.

A wail of a baby filled up the silence of the streets, followed by hushed chatter from citizens who had opened their window to look at the commotions. You heard the patters of footsteps closing in behind you.

“Just run, don’t stop,” you whispered to yourself.

“The next time they approach you, just run to me. Or punch them,” he said. “Either way works.”

“I don’t want to hurt them…”

“Simple, I’ll beat them up for you.”

Ducking through closed shops and weaving around in narrow alleyways, it wasn’t long before you reached home, completely out of breath. You grew up running around the streets of East Side Inazuma, so every twists and turns you’re familiar with. They were definitely strangers to this land, no doubt were you given a head start.

Pushing your keys in through the lock hole, you pushed opened the door just as quickly as you shut it. After making sure that every window, every door, was locked, you climbed upstairs to your bedroom.

Grabbing your first aid, you tore open your hastily made bandages. It was the same grueling process all over again—the stinging and burning of it. You checked the severity of your wound in the mirror.

Oh shit…

You could clearly see the silver glow of the bullet firmly wedged into the tissue of your skin. There was no way to get it out unless you seek professional help or you self-operate.

You could only carefully patch up your wound and hoped for the best. Tossing your jacket to the side, you changed into a more comfy wear, something suitable for both running and fighting. You were just tying your shoelaces when the door to your bedroom flew off its hinges.

It nearly crashed upon you. Standing by the doorframe was a small group consisting of maybe 7 people. More people than you liked in your house. The one standing in front— the ringleader, spoke up. Her purple lantern cackled with electrical energy.

“Now, either we can do this peacefully or we can do this the hard way,” she said, holding up two fingers. “You choose.”

“How about we do this outside and not in my room?”

She laughed. “And risk letting you get away again? Sorry love, you don’t make the choice here. If I were you, I’d surrender peacefully.” She smiled, revealing a neat row of sharp teeth.

“I’d rather not,” you said. “All of you started chasing and shooting me without even giving a reason as to why. There is no way in hell would I follow you.”

She sighed and shook her head, green hair swaying. “Then I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“No it can’t be.”

“You’ve made a bad choice,” she smiled again and disappeared in a flash of purple thunder. Small purple bats radiating a purple aura screeched.

And then they charged.

There was only so many that can fit in the room and they had all stupidly gotten themselves stuck in the doorframe, trying to fit through.

One managed to squeeze through, heading for you. In her hand held syringe containing some sort of green liquid sloshing around. You were prepared for this. When she came close enough, you grabbed her arm— the one with the syringe, and easily slammed her to the floor.

You smiled, proud of yourself. You didn’t spend years leaning how to fight for it to go to waste.

Another one came at you, and you ducked him. He crashed over to your desk, scattering everything onto the floor. You took this chance to ram into him, promptly using his body to smash your window.

You picked up the syringe from the hands of the unconscious person and began swinging it around. The tip eventually found its way to someones neck and they collapsed, body convulsing.

The temperature of your room suddenly dropped. The crowd of people parted, allowing a large man dressed in icy blue to step in. Your collection of keychains jingled with each step he took. He held out a large machine of some sort and pointed the nozzle at you.

What the fuck.

The machine whirred loudly, and you slowly backed towards the broken window. Eerie white mist pooled out from it. You felt goosebumps running down your arms.

It doesn’t take an idiot to know that you’ll probably die if you don’t get away in time.

You threw your chair at him to stall for time. Then you carefully crawled out the window as best as you can without cutting yourself open. Jagged shards scraped against your pants.

The jump down from the second floor to ground level wasn’t too high, you noted. Maybe you can make it down there without breaking a leg or two.

You shimmied over to the edge and took a deep breath. The people behind you crawled towards you. It reminded you of that time when centipedes began crawling out in massive groups from a ventilator and scaring the ever living shit out of you. You shivered at that memory, cold sweat clinging onto you.

You jumped.

Something crunched, you heard it. You check yourself for any injuries, but there was none.

Then what?…

You turned back around and nearly screamed. It was the body of the unfortunate enemy that had slipped and fell, their back bent at an awkward angle. A badge of some sort clattered against the pavement, rolling to a stop by your shoe. You picked it up and scampered away.

The badge— or pin, was exquisitely designed. Yet the more you examine it, the more you felt like you’ve seen this before.

Isn’t this…

An arm wrapped around your waist, the other suppressing your terrified screams. You angrily thrashed around, eyes wide in horror. The badge fell.

You raised one arm back and elbowed them as hard as you can. Adrenaline rush through your body once again as the grip around you loosened.

He stumbled back. One hand clutched at his nose. You could see blood gushing out from it.

With his free hand, he whipped out a butterfly knife. He looked like an maniac, smiling with blood dripping down his chin.

The group of enemies caught up. He held a hand out, and they all came to a stop.

“I’ll handle this,” his voice was gruff. You eyed him. Judging by his attire, he must be one of the higher ranking ones. The badges and small medals says it all.

The moon was at its fullest tonight, stars gleaming in the clear skies. It would’ve been the perfect night to go stargazing. The sight was almost beautiful if you weren’t literally fighting for your life.

You kept a steady rhythm in your mind, keeping yourself focus on the glint of the weapon.

A slash to the right. You dodged to the left. He barreled towards you. You dropped to the ground and swung your legs out. He fell, but was up not even seconds later. It’s the same all over again, block, parry, hit, get hit.

Dimly lit lanterns swung from the chilly breeze. It’s soft golden glow basked the streets in a warm blanket. His attacks were speeding up. Your body was worn out from the entire night of fighting and running. You don’t know how long you can keep going until you finally collapse from the exhaustion.

He was a blur of colors. You just couldn’t keep up. Not anymore.

The wound in your left arm was raging up in pain once again. You lower your guard for the just slightest moment, trying to catch your breath.

There wasn’t time for you to move, let alone react. You completely blanked out.

By the time you’ve snapped back, he was right in front of you— his blade piercing through your lower abdomen.

You couldn’t breath.

Everything began to blur together into blocks of colors. You could feel the warm blood slowly tricking down your stomach. Blood began pouring out when he removed the weapon. You stumbled.

“Give me the sedative.”

His voice sounded so faraway. “Fuckyou…” your words were slurred together. “No...”

“Tell the lord we’ve got her.”

Your eyes were half-lidded, movements sluggish. The engine of a van could be heard pulling up next to you. A blurry face appeared in your vision.

“Sleep well… never… have… back.”

His voice was fading away. You fought the the drowsiness overtaking you, but alas, the sedative was just too strong. The shattered mirror in your pocket fell with a quiet clink.

The last thing you could remember was excited mumbling of the onlookers, the feeling of your body being poked and prodded at, and the giant title plastered on the van that read, “NORTHLAND BANK.”

It was then you finally realized who was after you. The familiar print on the badges… you could only pray that Heizou— or someone, would be able to see what’s wrong.

It’s the Fatui, you bitterly thought to yourself. Of course it was the Fatui.

It was all you could remember before sleep consumed your consciousness, pulling you into the depths of nothingness.

…

“A blade; light as a feather, delicate as a bird,” he softly hummed to himself. “That blade; weighted and broken... wouldn’t you agree, my dear friend?”

The small creature curled up in his shoulder nuzzled its head against his chin. His fingers danced along the hilt of his katana.

“The moon is gorgeous tonight,” he murmured. “Let’s go report our findings to him, shall we?”

previous || series m.list || next

synopsis— [✩]

notes— [✩]

— as you can clearly tell by this chapter, I am not good at writing fight scenes 🙏 (ANYONE WANT TO TAKE A GUESS AS TO WHO IT WAS AT THE END)

taglist— [✩`·CLOSED]

[italicized usernames means I cannot tag you]

#[💫] acaaai-t #resurface my love #genshin #genshin impact #genshin series #genshin x reader #genshin scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin scaramouche #genshin angst #genshin fluff

201 notes · View notes

acaaai-t · 8 months

Text

resurface, my love

03. clued

[fem! reader x villain! scaramouche]

cw: angst, blood, scaramouche uses a sword, violence, cursing, death threats, bits of scaras past, attempted murder lol

‘The Fatui’

Scaramouche felt his blood run cold at the sight of the two words. The organization he works for was the last thing he wanted you to get involved in.

He scanned through the rest of the contents, hoping that it was an error in your writings. Scaramouche knew it was futile. You were bound to investigate The Fatui eventually. It was just a matter of time.

His heart only further sank when he saw the folder you’ve created, storing almost everything you knew about the Fatui. Which if presented to a Harbinger like him, even they would claim it was a dangerous lot.

Scaramouche looked high and low, searching for anything that might contribute to your disappearance. He dug through your desk— or whatever remains of your desk, yet nothing, nothing, was found.

Not a single clue as to your disappearance. Scaramouche punched the table in a fit of frustration, adding an extra hole to your already broken desk. He hated feeling like this.

Anxious helplessness tangled with his emotions. He bit down on his lips, the bitter taste of blood blooming in his mouth.

Kazuha seemed to sense Scaramouche’s restlessness. Even Tomo felt unease at Scaramouche’s presence, clambering back onto Kazuha and tucking his small form inside his jacket.

“Scaramouche.”

“What?” even he was startled at his sharp tone. “What…” he tried again, in a calmer voice.

“I was going to suggest asking her coworkers, maybe they would know something.”

Scaramouche frowned. Why didn’t he think of that? They were someone you see on a daily basis, if you were to suddenly disappear, they would be the one to notice first.

He got up, brushing the dust stuck on his knees away. Even though Scaramouche would have liked to organized your room back to how he remembered it to be, he figured it would be best not to temper with evidence.

“Let’s go,” there was no trace of emotion in his voice as he walked passed Kazuha and down the stairs.

…

The streets of Inazuma hadn’t changed one bit from how it used to be. It’s been a while since Scaramouche had walked through the markets filled with merchants selling all sorts of goods.

He missed the days where he would hold you in his embrace so gently, as if you were porcelain that would shatter in nothingness with the wrongest move.

Those days are long gone, he bitterly thought to himself.

A frightful yelp drew his attention away. Scaramouche scowled in annoyance. There was a person standing in his way, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“That’s him!” the old man screeched. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to stare. “It’s him! He’s The Balladeer, those crimes that happened in our town is all because of him!”

By now a crowd had gathered to see the unfolding spectacle. Kazuha squeezed his way through the crowd and grabbed Scaramouche’s arm.

“Gotta go, fast.”

Scaramouche didn’t need to be told twice. He shook off Kazuha’s hand and began running after him, but not without the citizens chasing after them with anything they could use to attack.

He scowled again when he felt something— it felt like a potato, hit the back of his head. Kazuha had somehow found his way up to the rooftops, and was now hopping over the gaps, following Scaramouche closely. It seemed that the townspeople was only targeting Scaramouche.

“Fucking bitches…” he muttered, drawing out his weapon from the scabbard. He skidded to a stop and pointed the sword at the crowd.

The mob of people instantly slowed, stumbling onto one another for support.

“Somebody really wants to fucking die,” he mused, the tip of his sword dug into the pavement below. It was an old fashion way to fight, but Scaramouche had long grown use to its constant company.

A tomato flew his way, and Scaramouche, with ease, sliced the vegetable in half with a flick of his wrist. “I’m not here to cause shit here. If I was, all of you,” he pointed at the crowd, nodding. “Will be dead.”

“Scaramouche,” Kazuha’s voice was urgent as his voice trailed down from the roof. “The Tenryo Commission is coming, we need to go.”

“To hell with them,” Scaramouche scoffed. “They’re so easily destroyable. Just a tiny step on them and they crush like a bug. Pathetic seeing them try.”

“You’re— you’re a monster,” a fearful voice cried out. It was the same person who had exposed him as the Balladeer.

“So I’ve heard,” Scaramouche grinned, sheathing his sword.

Those who hadn’t already fled the scene beforehand began to slither away. When the old man had found himself standing alone, he too, wavered and broke, scrambling away as Scaramouche stared him down. His purple eyes glinted with amusement and malice.

“How pitiful,” Scaramouche laughed. “Haven’t even done anything and they all ran.”

What once was the bustling streets of people was now empty, not a single soul in sight. Well, expect for the people dressed in black and purple running towards him.

Scaramouche clicked his tongue in disapproval. He pulled out his gun, aimed, and was about to pull the trigger when Kazuha stopped him, grabbing his arm. The serious look in his eyes told him no. Scaramouche rolled his eyes and set his gun aside.

“Whatever,” he said. “Let’s go before I feel the need to kill them.”

Kazuha dragged him over to an empty alleyway and pressed a finger over his lips, signaling for Scaramouche to stay quiet.

The group of Tenryo Commission members thundered past the two, with nobody noticing the two suspicious shadows crouching in the corner of the alleyway.

When Kazuha had made sure the coast was cleared, he motioned for Scaramouche to follow him. He deadpanned at Kazuha, watching him scale the walls and jump onto the rooftop.

“Hurry,” Kazuha hissed.

There really wasn’t an option for him to choose from.

“Why can’t I just use—” his words were cut off when a gust of wind started swirling under him before lifting him off the ground completely. Scaramouche froze, and didn’t move until he was down on solid ground again.

“There, that’ll get your slow ass moving,” Kazuha said. He threw a smile at Scaramouche and turned around, silently trailing away towards the direction of the Tenryo Commission. Particles of Anemo danced around him with every step he took.

Scaramouche rolled his eyes and scoffed. The lingering power of Anemo set his steps light as he sprinted after Kazuha, the slight breeze picking at his hair. Scaramouche glanced down at the empty streets. The pests the Commission sent out must’ve cleared the streets of everyone. Stalls were left unattended, the fire of some still left roaring. How hazardous, Scaramouche thought to himself. Would be a shame if I were to…

He snickered to himself, eventually deciding against his actions. There’s no need for Scaramouche to cause any more trouble for himself.

The sight of the Tenryo Commission building was getting closer. With the building being one of the fanciest things the city has build, it was hard to miss it, even if one was just passing by. It was by far the grandest thing the council had ever invest in.

Scaramouche leaped down from the rooftops and landed with a silent poof of air. The entrance to the Tenryo Commission beckoned at him. There were guards pacing around the premise, but they be easily taken care of.

The sky darkened, and the tingling feeling of electricity hung low in the air. Scaramouche took his time walking to greet the nuisances, wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Meanwhile Kazuha began to investigate the surroundings. He was quite certain that somewhere around this area, he could find a trace of you. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Immediately he picked it up as Scaramouche doing something idiotic, again.

He didn’t tried to interfere with whatever Scaramouche had planned. Not only will Scaramouche beat his ass for interrupting him, but it’ll only add fuel to the flames that is already raging uncontrollably.

Kazuha sniffed the air. There was a familiar scent to the wind. He followed where to the breeze led him, and he ended up in an abandoned part of the town. There, everything was run down. Windows were boarded up, doors were bolted shut.

A glint caught his eyes. It was a broken mirror, with droplets of splattered blood dotting the ground around it. Kazuha looked closer at it.

Ah. So that’s what was familiar scent was.

…

The sparks of electro fizzled away into the air, and with that, the bodies of everyone began to drop, one by one. Weapons clattered to the floor as the numbness overtook their vessels. All expect for one.

Scaramouche chucked, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Oh relax General, they aren’t dead. I’m not that cruel.”

“Don’t move,” Kujou Sara’s voice was stern, unwavering as she stood a distance away from Scaramouche, her bow raised and aimed. Even with the room being near pitch black, she could still see as clear as day.

Scaramouche grinned. “And what are you going to do? Kill me? You know well enough that even if you tried, you’ll still lose.”

The electro vision strung up by her hips glowed fiercely, a sign that she was beyond pissed. Scaramouche’s grin only grew wider. He took a step forward, holding both hands up in the air mockingly.

“Shoot me,” he said. “Do it.”

Sara let an arrow loose at Scaramouche’s words. Infused with the cackling energy of electro, the power alone was enough to knock out four grown adults. The arrow zipped through the air, it’s tip aimed dead at his head.

A crack of Electro came slashing down, effectively slicing the arrow in half. Sara kissed her teeth and lowered her bow. As expected.

“Good try, general. Better luck next time,” Scaramouche laughed. “Now, I believe I came here asking questions, not a fight.”

“What could the Fatui want with us,” she spat out the word Fatui with distaste, hatred clearly rooted in her tone.

“Oh no, I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Scaramouche plopped down on the office chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I didn’t come here on the behalf of the Fatui. Do you by any chance…”

He folded his hands together and leaned forward on the messy desk. “…know where [name] is?”

The main entrance banged loudly, it’s hinges trembling with every slam. Muffled voices could be heard shouting from the outside. Sara narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Oh, General, don’t be so tense. I have no intentions of hurting her.”

“Who am I to trust you?” The lock keeping the door jammed cracked.

“I’ll offer you a deal, how’s that? “ he smiled. “You tell me where she is, and I’ll tell you where that girl of yours you’ve been looking for is.”

Sara’s breath hitched.

“Wonderful deal, isn’t it? I mean, you’ve been looking for her for almost what? Three years?.”

Silence.

“I don’t have all day, General. Pick. Lest you want me to go find it myself.”

Pick..

The lock couldn’t support the battering beating its been receiving, and it finally succumbed under the pressure, the doors crashing down with a loud resonating boom.

Sunlight filtered into the dark empty room.

Sara sat there, not a single word uttered. Her eyes bored holes at where Scaramouche had stood. Whatever remains of her bow laid by her feet, and in her her hands, held a crumpled up sheet of paper.

“General? Are you alright? Do you need to seek a medic?”

Gone with the breeze was he, leaving only papers slowly descending to the ground. The pattering footsteps of her underlings echoed in her head as they began scouting the area.

“… In the left drawer, the third one. It holds her resignation letter there.”

Scaramouche raised a brow. “Resignation letter?”

“It was left on my desk yesterday. No sign of [name] when I went to look.”

“Oh?”

“You can go check her office if you don’t believe me, last door to the right of the hall,” Sara said through gritted teeth. She had given away more information that she had intended to.

“Did the cameras capture footage of her handing in letter?”

“Someone sabotaged the security system a few nights ago, it’s still in the process of getting fixed.”

“I see,” Scaramouche mused, tapping one finger against his cheeks. “Mind sharing the footage of the night when it got sabotaged?”

“Now that I cannot give away—”

In a flash, Scaramouche was out of his seat and had Sara by her throat before she could even finish her sentence. “It wasn’t a question,” he hissed, his nails digging into her skin, deep enough to draw blood. “We can either do this the easy way, or we can go the hard way.”

Sara had known about the evil doings of the man holding her in a chokehold, the stories whispered held enough warning to steer clear, but to experience it herself was terrifying. Black spots danced in her vision as her air was abruptly cut off.

“I— I can get it for you,” Sara gasped.

Releasing the women from his grasp, he stepped back and crossed his arms. Sara rubbed at her neck and winced, trying to brush away the pain prickling at her tiny wounds as she clicked away on the computer.

“Here,” she said, handing Scaramouche a USB drive.

“Thank you, wasn’t that hard at all, was it?” he flashed Sara a cold smile before disappearing all together with a swift swoosh of the wind, leaving no traces of there ever being a second person in the room.

She was left alone.

“A resignation letter,” he said, waving the crinkled piece of paper in the air. “And footage of the night the cameras was messed with.”

Kazuha raised a quizzical brow. “A resignation letter?” he echoed. “That’s out of character for her. Oh yeah here, I found this while searching the area.”

He handed Scaramouche the broken mirror. “It was near the abandoned part of town— quite close to where I saw your lover get taken.”

Quite close to where you disappeared.

Scaramouche shoved the USB drive and the letter into his pockets. “Take me there,” he demanded.

Borrowing in the resonance of Anemo from his friend, Scaramouche surged forward just a few steps behind Kazuha. The wind played at his hair, tossing it to the left then to the right. In less than a minute, Scaramouche arrived at the scene.

“Here?”

He scanned the environment. This area does seem like the type of place where people tend to do the unspeakable.

“Here,” Kazuha led him to where he found the item. “Look, that’s the smell of blood.”

Scaramouche got on one knee and took a closer look. With all his years of experience, he should know better than anyone what a scene of crime looks like— and this place, even without there being actual evidence of what took place, aroused heavy suspicion.

What made it worse was that Scaramouche realized that this part of town is what one would call a ‘ghost town’, a place isolated from everyone else, even when it was so close to the lively city. There were no cameras, nothing to record down what had transpired the night you disappeared other than the small droplets of what Kazuha claimed to be blood. Your blood.

It wasn’t that Scaramouche didn’t trust Kazuha’s senses, he had placed full trust in his keen nose. It was one of the prominent reasons why Scaramouche had spared his life that day and allowed Kazuha to work for him. But the thought of you bleeding— wounded, brought up an uncomfortable sensation.

He checked both the front and the back of the mirror, hoping it would show him something he can’t see with his naked eye. Nothing.

“Let’s go back,” he had tried to mask his bitter disappointment, but it was evident. There was no use trying to hide it.

The journey back to your house was swift, thankfully having nobody starting up any more trouble than they were worth for the two. With the sky being dipped in a golden red hue as the sun slowly sets, Scaramouche pushed open the door and gestured for Kazuha to step in.

The house was cold despite Scaramouche having the heater turned on all the way. Kazuha sat on your couch with his cat curled up on his lap, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he read through the resignation letter you left.

“Kazuha.”

“Hm?”

“Did you bring your laptop with you?”

“…no.”

Scaramouche muttered a curse under his breath. “Well I can’t find a laptop in the house. The only one she had probably got destroyed.”

“It’s quite bold of you to assume I would carry such things with me at all times,” Kazuha chuckled lightheartedly. “I can ask for Xiao to bring it over.”

“How fast can he get it here?”

“Depends on his mood, really. But all in all, he’s pretty fast.”

“Have him bring it over. Tell him it’s urgent.”

“Mmhm.”

Scaramouche trailed back into whatever remains of your bedroom and sat down on the broken bed frame. There, his thoughts slowly began consuming him.

How did he manage to mess up? He was gone for only two days. Two days, and something happened to you.

Scaramouche was a careful man, he knew to steer clear of you as to not place harm over your head. If the past were to ever come to light, it’ll only further damage both of your reputations. He bit down on his tongue. Having to shroud the past wasn’t too difficult, Scaramouche had easily blocked it all out. But to bring it back up again hurts.

He buried his face into the palms of his hands. It hurts.

Meow.

Scaramouche looked up, meeting eye to eye with Kazuha’s cat. The tiny feline jumped up onto his lap and yawned, his sharp fangs peeking out. His claws dug into Scaramouche’s skin as he began kneading.

For the past 24 hours he’d been looking nonstop, searching nonstop— fighting nonstop. He hadn’t allowed himself to rest, no. His muscles ached, but that was nothing compared to the pain that had rooted itself deep within his heart. It hurts.

The night he chose to left was ultimately the hardest decisions he had to made. It broke him, but he knows that it’ll hurt you even more than it’ll ever hurt him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Sorry does nothing— nothing.

He wanted to stay. Stay in your tiny bedroom, cuddling with each other as the night gradually fades away into a new dawn. Sometimes he wonders, would things have gone differently if he had stayed?

Idiot, of course it could’ve gone differently.

He should’ve stayed. God, he hated himself for the decisions he had chose. He missed you.

“Scara,” your voice echoed in his head. “Scaramouche.”

He’s spiraling.

He wanted you to leave, to disappear from his mind— but you lingered there, bounded to be a ghost that roamed in his nightmares. No, Scaramouche cannot forget you even if he tried.

Even if his memories were wiped clean, he knows that somehow— just somehow he’ll still recognize you in the sea of strange faces.

It was unbearable.

“Scara…”

Love. Love hurts.

“… Scaramouche.”

His eyes snapped open. “What?”

Kazuha gave him a worried glance. “Xiao’s he— good god are you alright? You look paler than usual.”

He frowned. “I’m… okay. Just tell him to on leave the computer on the kitchen table.”

“If you say so,” Kazuha spared another worrying look at the violet hair man before disappearing downstairs, his cat trotting right next to him.

Scaramouche ran his hand through his hair and sighed in frustration. He can’t stand this anymore, now he’s more determined than ever to find you and tell you all the words he had meant to say before he left.

The USB sitting in his pocket jabbed at him, and his hands closed around it. First things first, examine the clues.

Scaramouche got up and hurried down the stairs, right into the kitchen, where the laptop Xiao had brought was placed on the island. Kazuha was nowhere to be found, but he was sure that the wanderer wouldn’t be gone for too long. After all, Kazuha does play an important role in his hunt for you.

The laptop brightened to life, and Scaramouche hastily plugged the USB into the port. It took a while for the technology to process the information dump, but eventually a file popped up on screen labeled ‘11/16’.

It was the night you disappeared.

His eyes narrowed as the video footage played on. For such a grand company, the quality of both the camera and the video was absolute shit. The time played all the way until near midnight, and that’s when Scaramouche noticed something amiss. He paused the video and took a closer look.

There was no mistaking it. The black shadow definitely wasn’t just the camera acting up— it was someone. Scaramouche felt his heart skip a beat as he rewinded all the way to the footage of two nights ago. He needed to confirm his arousing suspicion.

Pause.

Right there, at 4:21pm. Yep, that was someone, sneaking around the perimeter of the building, looking through windows. Scaramouche fast forward the video by just a little bit, and the camera screen switched, giving him a perfect view of the suspect.

Dressed in all black— not very conspicuous in board daylight, yet nobody seemed to noticed them. He watched as the stranger unlatched one of the many windows and slipped in, completely oblivious as to the fact that they were being recorded.

Scaramouche didn’t need to have footage to prove that the window the suspect had entered through was your office, it was obvious.

The video sped up once again, and the figure appeared back in the camera frame twenty minutes later, looking to be in a rush. In their arms were a duffel bag containing something— if Scaramouche had to guess, it could’ve been case files on something.

But what would they need with the files?

“Reviewing the camera footage already?”

Kazuha’s sudden reappearance made Scaramouche jump.

“Ah, apologies,” he said. “How’s it going? Got any clues yet?”

“Look,” Scaramouche said, pausing the video and pointing to the black figure. “That happened Tuesday morning. Just three days before she… disappeared. And then the next day, the footage crashed.”

Kazuha frowned. “Isn’t that… her office?”

“That is,” he nodded. “Now I don’t know who that person is, or why they barged into her office, but I know that that has something to do with her disappearance.”

Kazuha zoomed in on the stranger's face. While there were a couple of pixels of their face, it definitely wasn’t enough to do a full face analysis on their identity. The only prominent feature was the tiny tussle of blue hair peeking out from the hood. He paused. “What about their letter? Have you found anything odd about it?”

“Haven't checked yet, but I’ve read through it multiple times. The contents just don’t make sense.”

“Hold on, I’ll go find a recent file of hers. We can compare the handwriting. It is a handwritten letter, right?”

Scaramouche nodded, his eyes still glued to the screen. “Tell Xiao I said thanks.”

Tuesday afternoon, someone broke into your office— what they took was unknown. Their identity cannot be confirmed, for they were covered completely, head to toe in black. That was all he had.

He was at a dead end.

Scaramouche groaned in frustration, slamming the computer shut.

It doesn’t make sense.

Why? Why were they unable to see what went wrong? They’d been with you for years— they should know.

Nothing made sense.

What was the motive behind your kidnapping? The criminals you’ve caught is still locked behind bars, cut off from the outside world, meaning they couldn’t have been the one to sought after you. Could it have been the Fatui?

No… Scaramouche would know if it were to happen under the very organization he works for.

And why hasn’t anyone noticed? Even if you were to resign from your position as a detective, you would still be widely recognized if you were out on the streets walking.

According to what Kazuha had gathered over the past months, you were seen outside taking a stroll atleast once a day, even if you were down with the flu. The locals had long adopted your habit— yet nobody, nobody noticed. Not a single person called out on the strange anomaly of your disappearance.

Fucking dammit.

“Scaramouche,” Kazuha’s voice brought him back to the present. “So I did an analysis on both, and I thought maybe you’d want to look at it yourself.”

He handed Scaramouche two pieces of paper. One was the resignation letter, the other was a document written on about the Doctor. At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Both handwritings matched near identical to each other.

Scribbled along the margins of both papers was Kazuha’s flawless penmanship.

“I’ve written down the differences I noticed, they may not seem very obvious, but it’s there,” Kazuha said.

Scaramouche scanned through the notes, and his frown deepened as he read through it.

“See what I mean?”

“Yeah, that’s really weird.”

‘Hope this finds you well and alive.’

‘Decided to resign due to personal issues…’

Well and alive? That phrase alone was suspicious enough, almost as if you were expecting death to deliver its final blow towards her. Why would you wish death upon someone who had been looking out for you during the years he cannot?

He reopened the computer and clicked on the footage, then brought out the broken mirror he had been given and placed it next to the computer. Kazuha followed by setting down the two documents side by side next to mirror.

Scaramouche took a hard look at the items placed on the table. While everything seemed to be connected in some way, there was just something missing. A good portion of it was still yet to be discovered, and if Scaramouche were to find it— it’ll connect the dots.

“Let’s get this straight, two nights ago someone broke into her office and took something away. We aren’t sure what it was, but I can always go investigate. The only feature we could find on the said suspect was the tiny pixels of blue hair, and that we can’t even confirm if it’s real or just a trick of the camera,” Kazuha said.

“And then on the night your beloved was taken, I didn’t see anything sort of suspicious, other than a couple of buildings exploding. Which leads us to the mirror I found in where I presumed she was taken,” he pointed to the broken mirror. “And the strangely phrased resignation letter she left.”

“The thing is,” Scaramouche spoke up. “Right after that we reach a dead end. Even if you do go to her office, it won’t be guaranteed that you’d find what’s missing. We’re still not looking hard enough, there’s a large chunk that we’re still missing.”

“Scaramouche.”

A soft thump follow by the light pattering of paws against the hardwood floor was heard as Tomo approached the two men. He dropped something on the floor and meowed as he stared into Scaramouche’s eyes.

Kazuha picked up the item that was dropped, and Scaramouche felt his heart drop and blood run cold once again. The look the two shared said more than enough.

He had hoped it wasn’t, but once the evidence was brought into light— there was really no arguing when the truth was placed right in front of him. Something inside of him snapped, and suddenly a turmoil of emotions raged within his mind. There was only one thought consuming his mind as he ran out the house.

He was going to kill that bitch.

previous || series m.list || next

notes—

— I HAVE SEASON ONE AND TWO PLANNED OUT FINALLY after two months of not updating this series 💀

synopsis —

taglist — [CLOSED]

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acaaai-t · 25 days

Text

in another world

gn! reader x scaramouche

cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, major character death

The stars were cruel and unrelenting. He had come to learn the hard way.

There was nothing he could do, as he watched you link arms with someone else that wasn’t him. The smile you gave them was meant for him, not for the loser that captured your heart. His nails dug into the palms of his hands, skin on the verge of breaking.

But what was he to do?

He was dead. Gone.

…

Perhaps in another reality, he was well and alive, spending the precious moments with you.

He’ll still be yours, and in turn, you’ll be his.

The two of you will travel the world together, and he’ll take you to the highest cliff of Mondstadt, where he had laid out a small blanket upon the grass. Baskets and plates of food he had cooked himself sits neatly upon the checkered sheets, its aroma alluring you in. Cecilas dotted the plains, the white specks of floral inviting the presences of the butterfly and bees. “Surprise,” he said, giving you a crooked smile.

He’ll have to fight back a laugh as he watches you trip over a camouflaged root somewhere in the heart of Sumeru’s forest, only helping you up when he was done laughing at your clumsy mistake. You’d whine and playfully punch him, but he’ll dodge out the way and catch in a tight hug, muttering sorry’s and I love you’s.

He’ll be on one knee, the sand digging into his skin, a camera held up as he playfully shouts at you to stay still for the picture— the image of you standing underneath a canvas of the sunset in the beaches of Fontaine, wind gently tugging at your hair, giggling as you watch your beloved struggle.

Click!

He’ll be the one to paddle the tiny canoe that he had scrounged up in an old shed around the bioluminescence beach in Inazuma. And you’d be sitting across from him, eyes bright and curious, laughter spilling from your lips as you watched the stars dance along with the shimmers in the sea. The moon hung high in the skies, blanketing you with a soft white glow.

He’ll be the one to introduce you to his family, your fingers anxiously fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt as the two of you stand outside the large brass door, waiting. You tell him that you’re nervous, and he reassures you that everything will be fine. His family will adore you. And even if they don’t— which isn’t true— he’ll still take you as his lover, because there is nobody else in the entirety of Teyvat that he wants.

It’ll be the first night of the annual lantern rite, and he’ll take you to a secluded area within the trees to release lanterns of your own. Sweet promises scribed in the lantern that captures a glimpse of your future with him, the path that you’re willing to take down with him.

…

You were his first everything, just as he was your first everything. So when Scaramouche had suddenly departed from your side, it left you in a crumbling wreck of emotions.

He hated seeing you like this. Eyes puffy and red from all the crying, voice hoarse and body weak.

He hated even more the sight of you with someone else, all lovey-dovey.

Yet seeing you finally open up to someone new brought him a sense of relief. He may not like it, but if it meant that you’ll finally stop sobbing your heart out every night, that you’ll finally regain that bubbly personality of yours, that you’ll find that light to guide your path— he was willing to accept the loss.

Still, it was unfair.

Maybe in my next life, he whispered, words carried away by the wind, falling deaf to the wonders of nature.

✩ ·┆ masterlist

notes—

— (it’s been a year daddy) :: jokes aside, junior year had been insane, and I’ve been stu(dying) for the upcoming SAT while also trying to write a book of my own WHILE looking for internships, maintaining good grades, stressing about EVERYTHING… you get the idea... ending was slightly rushed sorry 🫶

#[💫] acaaai-t #astronetwrk #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin scara #scara x you #genshin scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche

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acaaai-t · 9 months

Text

a warriors final pledge

fem! reader x knight! scaramouche

cw: light angst (sort of), hurt/no comfort, major character death, mentions of war, slight description of a wound, kissing, forbidden love

The storm rumbled.

Thunder clashed, lightning strikes— eliciting the world in a flash of white. The rain pelted down, banging against the window in loud patters.

You let out a small cry when the lightning flashed again. The grip you had on your the collar of your mothers gown tightened. She held you closer in her embrace, her touch slow and gentle, whispering sweet things to you in an attempt to soothe your fear.

“The storm will pass,” she mumbled quietly.

You gave no response, only burying your head deeper into the crook of her neck. Both hands cupped against your ears in an futile effort to drown out the storm.

“Your mother is right,” a deeper voice carrying wavering confidence spoke up. It was Scaramouche.

Though you could see from the corner of your eyes that he was scared— the slight tremble in his voice, he still managed to maintain a calm composure. As expected of the knight in duty.

The wind whistled and howled, bending the branches of trees to an impossible angle. Lightning flashed, and the thunder crashed. You whimpered.

The storm befalls.

Swords clashed against each other, sending up tiny sparks that quickly fizzled away. Arrows pelted down from the skies, raining down upon the targets. A explosive detonated somewhere in the middle of the battlefield, and for a moment, the world was lit in a flash of white.

Scaramouche brought up his sword, parrying a strike from the enemy. Blood mixed in with the mud, and he nearly slipped. He looked around frantically for an opening while fighting off another.

You were right behind him, your own weapon in hand, also fighting off the enemies. The heavy armor weighted you down, but atleast it was keeping you alive. Your sword work was clumsy, inefficient, and the opposing side caught on quickly that you couldn’t wield a sword as well as the knight protecting you.

Scaramouche felt an electric spark running up his spine. He shivered, a sudden ominous feeling shadowing him. With a swift thrust of his blade, the few remaining enemies surrounding the two of you fell.

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing ahold of your arm. “This place to far too dangerous.”

You stumbled as you ran, ducking as arrows whizzed past you.

Using the smoke as a cover up, Scaramouche brought you over to an house that was just barely on the verge of collapsing. It was a miracle the building hasn’t already been obliterated into nothingness.

“Stay here,” he said, guiding you to a dark corner of the house.

“You’re staying with me, right?”

He nodded. “It is my duty to protect you as your knight, princess.”

“Scara… you can drop the formalities.”

“Force of habit, sorry,” he muttered.

You laughed, a sound akin to the silver bells that twinkled in the autumn breeze. The laugh quickly faded away, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Sometimes… I just wish we could’ve been normal people, you know?”

Scaramouche felt his heart squeeze at your words.

“Maybe then we could’ve been together and escape from the war, living somewhere where nobody can find us,” you shook your head, knowing full well the future you envision will never be reality.

A knight and a princess could never be together.

“Scara, come here,” you said, beckoning the boy over.

He did as told, getting on one knee as he faced you. With no warning, you cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer to you. It was a short-lived kiss, and when you pulled away, both your faces were dusted a light red.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” you sputtered out, stumbling over your words in the haze of panic. “Sorry…”

Delicate fingers came up to trace his lips, the tingling feeling of your lips still dancing. It was crazy, seeing you so calm and collected, when the kingdom that belong to you— was being slowly teared apart, bit by bit.

The amber of the raging fire reflected in your eyes as you stared out at the bloodied battlefield. You kept your gaze trained on anywhere but him, your thoughts still jumbled up from your impulsive decision.

“It’s fine,” he whispered, heart thumping.

He sat down next to you and pulled you into his embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

The world was falling apart, but for just the tiniest moment, here in this dark corner of a house, everything seemed to be alright. It was just you and him, and nothing else mattered. Just two idiots in love, but unable to love each other.

You pressed your body against him, feeling the warmth that radiated off.

Suddenly you were 8 years old.

It was storming again. You were hiding in the closet of your bedroom, a blanket tightly wrapped around you.

Scaramouche bursts into your chamber and yanked the closet door open, his hair disheveled and eyes crazed. His breaths were ragged as he looked at you, a wave of relief visibly washing over him.

“There you are,” he mumbled, crawling into the tiny space next to you. “I thought you got kidnapped…”

No response was heard from you, but the extra weight on his shoulder said more than enough. Scaramouche could only muster a tiny smile. Though the boy was only two years older than you, he had shown an incredible progression in his maturity level— this leading your parents to make the final decision and officially appointing him as your personal protector.

“Hey…” he whispered, patting your head. “There’s no need to be scared, I’ll always be there to protect you.”

That was his pledge.

His voice echoed loudly in his head.

“Hey.”

He could barely hear himself over his pounding heartbeat.

“Hey..” he nudged at your still figure. “Hey don’t do this to me. This isn’t time for jokes.”

Very carefully, he lifted your body up and held you close to him. A warm liquid seeped slowly seeped into his attire. You were still alive, Scaramouche could confirm with that faint heartbeat of yours. But it won’t last long, he knows it.

The lightning strikes. Purple streaked across the skies, bringing with it a deafening clap of thunder. All sorts of emotions raged in his heart, but the one above all, was fear.

“Scaramouche,” your voice was faint, just barely audible.

The silent was deafening.

How did it happen?

…

He had lowered his guard and allowed a silent attacker to intrude.

It was my fault.

A tear slipped and rolled down his cheeks. Even though the enemy had long gone cold, it was still too late. That bloodied gash that hastily marked your neck signaled at your death.

It was futile to try and save you. He knows. Yet he tries.

It was only when your body had gone limp, when the light in your eyes dulled out, when you couldn’t feel his warmth anymore, was when he stopped—

— stopped trying to care for the world around him, for what was there to care about when the only person he had ever really loved was gone? A strangled laugh escaped him.

Gone.

He brought your body over to an untainted field, where the surviving flowers flourished. Gently, Scaramouche laid your body down on the bed of flowers and took one final look at you before closing your eyes for the last time. He sat a small clutch of orchids where your hands met.

“Maybe in another lifetime, you and I, could be together,” he whispered. “I’ll wait for you, always.”

With his final words, Scaramouche stood up and faced the warzone ahead of him, his blade clutched tightly in his hands, and the stone hanging by his neck glowed a fierce purple.

Dark heavy clouds began covering the sky, the aura of electrical hanging low in the air. Slowly, rain began to plunge.

And amidst the rain he would fight, fight until the world had finally taken account of what they done, fight until his final breath, fight until he drops dead— fight like that of a warriors final pledge.

The storm was back, and this time, it won’t hold back.

✩ ·┆masterlist

notes—

— bruh I finished this fic at like 12am so the ending might not make sense; making reader suffer in the next fic, I’ve caused scaramoochie too much pain 🙏

#[💫] acaaai-t #genshin #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scara x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x you #genshin scaramouche #genshin scaramouche x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin x you

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